In A Handbasket
by Thai Tea Addict
Summary: Saint Rudolph offers Echizen Ryoma new opportunites - although it was hard to tell if Ryoma was escaping from his own personal hell, or walking into a new one. AU, with StRudolph!Ryoma
1. A Choice, Defined

**A/N:** First story! Alright, basically I'm just using a pretty common plot (the Ryoma-in-a-different-school one) and giving it some flair. XD What? I don't see anybody else putting him in Saint Rudolph! _Don't judge me_.

**Warnings:** Er...I don't think there's any. I kind of took Creative License with Ryoma, though, pretty much altering his background and some of his...skill set...

**Pairings:** None for now, and there probably won't be any. There may or may not be many, many shounen-ai hints though.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own.

_Edit 10/27/11_: Freaking annoying mistypes...

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

**"It's choice - not chance - that determines your destiny."**

-_Jean Nidetch_

* * *

The courtyard was flooded with teens of varying sizes and tones and personalities, the crunching of feet on gravel audible despite the chatter that filtered through the air unhindered. They flocked in different directions, some out the gates and on to roads that lead places distant, while others walked the winding path to another building set up nearby, flanked by shrubbery and wide windows that peered into stretching rooms, the only safeguard being the heavy, maroon curtains set at each panel. The school building itself was just as ornate as the dorms it boasted, a combination of plaster, wood, and marble that curved delicately at the entrances and alighted the shining of the dark-wooded floors.

Echizen Ryoma wasn't particularly impressed.

To be fair, he had seen his fair share of churches. There had to be one every other block in New York, and his family had not been the church-going type. His only memory of entering such a place had been a bitter one, and the implications of the memory that threatened to overwhelm him at any given moment was not a pleasant feeling. He could look away from the fixtures, though, and on the inside it was just like any other school - the Western ones, that is. It was blatantly clear from where St. Rudolph's Academy claimed its birthright.

The morning had not gleaned anything spectacular; as far as first days of school went, this had to be ranked somewhere around his least exciting. As the shift from societies had initially thrown him off - it was hard to remember that he had to bow for _every little thing _- he had sort of been expecting his first day at his new school to be somewhat interesting. Naturally, Fate had it in for him; classes yielded nothing more than mediocre work (his English class was a joke), and even his new dorm was the picture of normalcy.

His roommate wasn't so bad - a level-headed third year by the name of Kubota Makoto - but as Ryoma wasn't inclined to talking, their loosely-termed conversation was nothing more than polite manners and formalities. Kubota was decent enough, though, and Ryoma would definitely take him over any other boisterous idiot that seemed to fill the halls of this boarding school.

He had finished his last class of the day, Japanese Literature, and was following the path outlined in the map provided to him by an over-enthusiastic school secretary. His homeroom had been highlighted, along with the cafeteria and gym, and the secretary had even taken the extra step to mark off the tennis courts for the freshman. In bold, blinding green ink. (The man was actually quite frightening; his irreplaceable grin erred on the side of maniacal.)

Saint Rudolph. His father would have had a _fit_.

The school attracted tennis players with tempting offers of food and board, provided such players actually had talent. The offer was more than enough for Ryoma, even if he couldn't take Karupin along; anything to get away from the memory of the man that had touched everything Ryoma knew. Even Japan had not been a sanctuary to Ryoma; it was like his father was everywhere, lingering inside structures Ryoma had never even seen. Seishun Gakuen had been among his first choices until he learned Echizen Nanjiroh had graduated from there. Hyoutei turned out too expensive - the uniforms were near $3000, which was such an obvious rip-off - while Rikkai Daigakou's staff and tennis club probably ate freshman his size for breakfast.

But Saint Rudolph wasn't bad. It offered an indoor gym, as well as clean tennis courts. Ryoma really wasn't that hard to please.

The thumping of tennis balls on court grounds started to filter through the air, and while Ryoma wished to abandon every other memory, he could not - _would_ not - let this one go. He had consumed it by this point, became so wholly focused on it that giving it up would surely destroy him. His life was focused on that green sphere, the handle covered with grip tape. Sweeps of long patience, muscles tried to exhaustion; _that_ was Echizen Ryoma. Tennis was not about the enjoyment - it was about him, because in the end, that's all there was. Tennis and Ryoma and the memories tied between them like the strings on a racket.

The courts weren't fenced off like the ones back in New York had been, instead framed by blocks of green grass and flowers. There weren't many members around; tennis club members were currently running tracks around the school, but core members - what had the psychotic secretary called them? Regulars? - were gathered in one of the courts, apparently listening to one of their own talk.

The overall effect of the scene was dubious, and Ryoma was hard-pressed not to turn back around and walk away. His scholarship, however, was riding on his participation in the tennis club, and he knew he couldn't just avoid it like he fervently wished he could. His feet continued to drag him forward, down the small flight of steps that brought him to the center of the court as well as attention of those present. (This was one of those times where he inwardly cursed his lack of punctuality; this time it had not been his fault, as his homeroom teacher had held him back awhile to speak to him.)

"Are you a new member?" one of the older boys asked, once the troupe looked done criticizing him with their eyes alone. The one that spoke was the tallest of the lot, broad-shouldered with bronzed skin and lithe muscle covering his frame. His hair was a russet brown, cut to his shoulders but left otherwise alone, his eyes of the same color and narrow. He had not been the one talking before Ryoma had entered the scene; that was the smaller teen wearing a ludicrous shade of _violet_.

Ryoma tugged the brim of his hat down, out of habit more than any sense of alienation, and gave a small nod and grunt in affirmation. The tall boy moved forward, at about the same time as the lilac-adorned male did. Ryoma leaned back as his personal space was abruptly invaded by the wavy-haired youth who was wearing a smirk as dark as the eyes that roved up and down his form.

"Aren't you a cute little lamb?"

Ryoma's chastity was saved when a multitude of exclamations broke through at the questionable comment ("_Mizuki!" "Mizuki-san!"_), and one of the teens had stepped forward to grab at the purple-clad boy's arm as if that would somehow impede his molestation. Ryoma took a few cautious steps back, though the tall boy from before just continued moving forward, motioning for the freshman to follow him, completely unconcered by his teammate's advance. Ryoma sincerely hoped that wasn't something he should be getting used to.

Mizuki didn't seem very deterred, merely giving the freshman a knowing smirk before he turned his attention to the boy clutching at his sleeve. The youth was about the same height, of the same pale skin with brown hair shaved just inches from the scalp. The most notable feature was the cross-shapred scar on the upper-right side of his forehead.

"You're going to scare off all of the freshmen-"

The reprimand was cut off by the thick wood of the door as the tanned youth shut the door to the locker room, before turning around to rifle through the contents in a nearby filing cabinet. "Name?"

"Echizen Ryoma."

Ryoma watched the other dispassionately; he had filled out the paperwork for entrance to the club with his registration papers, so the other was likely just looking for the documents to confirm it. The tennis bag slung over his shoulder held not only his racket, but the club uniform; it seemed even freshmen were expected to wear the standard attire. It wasn't that dressy; just brown sweapants (or the option of brown shorts) with a white shirt that had a streak of brown across the top.

Pulling out the file, Akazawa flipped open the manila folder to scan the documents inside. He was merely looking for the name and picture of the other boy for verifcation. He figured he'd order the freshman to get changed, introduce himself and Mizuki (as they were buchou and fukubuchou, respectively), then order him to join the rest of the club on jogging the circuit around the school. It was the start of the new semester and while he was displeased with the boy's latecoming, it was always good to get a new member.

Akazawa was well aware he was rushing and that he should at least take the time to explain a bit about their club rules and introduce him to the current set of Regulars, but he was feeling a bit harried by Nomura's sudden move to Osaka. While by no means the strongest Regular, the youth was at least at a level just above the rest of the populace that made up the Saint Rudolph tennis club, so now they had a spot to fill among their Regulars.

Mizuki had just been filling them in on the top two candidates - not on the rest of the Regulars' levels, but they could at least fill in the replacement spot - when Echizen had come up. They had narrowed it down to Sasabe Sanburou, a thrid year, and a second year named Shindo Hikaru. Mizuki had emphatically shot down the latter, claiming the statistics were high in that the boy would soon join the Go club, and besides, the bleached-banged boy could supposedly see ghosts. Mizuki didn't want to risk Shindou being distracted by "long-dead friends" while in the middle of the match. Atsushi had, of course, emphatically put in that he'd prefer a schizo over an egotistical bastard any day.

Akazawa found his attention pulled to the folder in his hands.

_That...can't be right,_ he thought in disbelief, careful not to let it show on his face as he glanced at the boy by his side. Echizen Ryoma didn't look the type to exaggerate his own skills - actually, he didn't even look fully awake right now - but then again, Akazawa had assumed Mizuki Hajime would be as cutesy as his wavy hair and purple attire had suggested. Reality had been quite cruel.

"Your file says you've won some junior tournaments back in America," It was more a statement than a question, but Ryoma thought the older boy wanted a confirmation nonetheless. He didn't really understand the importance of it, but whatever made the older boy hurry this process up was desired.

"Yeah," Ryoma grunted, seemingly unconcerned.

_Don't sound so enthused, _Akazawa thought critically. Well, at least the boy didn't have the attitude of Sasabe, because there was only so much Saint Rudolph could handle in terms of ego. At least Mizuki had some talent to back up his claims - as well as the harem he had built up for defense. (It was rather frightening, how popular a pretty boy could become in an all-boys school.)

"I am Akazawa Yoshirou, the Saint Rudolph Tennis club's captain." Akazawa started, putting away the file as he turned his attention to the smaller boy. "Change into your tennis uniform, Echizen, then come out to the tennis courts. I'm going to gauge your experience."

Ryoma cocked his head, a small smirk starting to tilt his lips. "Hai, Buchou."

Akazawa stifled the urge to shiver; the child's gaze was anything but warm.

* * *

Walking back out onto the courts, Akazawa felt the cold lift off of him. He hadn't realized it was there until it was gone, but he found himself trying to calm his erratically-beating heart all the same. There was something about the younger boy that was - _terrifying_, it could be described. The boy had not spoken anything considered negative nor had he made any outright actions that could be deemed inappropriate; it was something more subtle, something that lurked beneath the surface of those eyes.

"Sent the kid on laps already, Buchou?" Atsushi asked, once he had rejoined their little group. Akazawa had half-a-mind to send them on laps for not already beginning to practice, but then he caught Mizuki terrifying Yanagisawa, Yuuta, and Kaneda into something resembling a tennis drill. Though for all he knew, Mizuki could have just been amusing himself; the other youth had a penchant for abusing his own power. Sometimes Akazawa wondered what he had been thinking, making the other his vice captain.

"I think he's that new kid that just transferred in, da ne," Yanagisawa said, momentarily escaping Mizuki's attention.

Akazawa gave a curt nod. "He'll be coming out shortly. There was some interesting information in his files, so he'll be playing a practice match with Yanagisawa." Mizuki wasn't the only one who liked to abuse his power.

"Why me, da ne?" Yanagisawa cried.

"Something interesting in his files?" Mizuki echoed, his attention snapping to the taller brunette with calculating eyes. Yanagisawa shrunk away, attempting to hide himself behind Atsushi as the purple-clad manager leaned forward in interest. "What sort of fascinating things concern that cute boy?"

"Mizuki-san, that's not entirely appropriate," Yuuta stated dryly.

Atsushi nodded in complete agreement. "That's probably bordering on sexual harassment, actually."

Mizuki turned to leer at the two with a wide smirk. "Do you two want a live tutorial on _sexual harassment_?" he asked, practically gleaming.

Ryoma was unfortunate enough to walk in at this exact moment, causing everyone in the vicinity to freeze in associative guilt. The freshman was casting Mizuki wide, mostly-suspicious looks, moving closer to Akazawa as if he were the only source of sanity among them. (Which _had _to be false, because he was the reason Mizuki was present in the first place.)

"This is Echizen Ryoma," Akazawa introduced, once he thought that everyone had felt their fair share of trauma for the day. "Echizen-kun, you'll be playing a match with one of the Regulars. Yanagisawa," his glare slid over to the teen huddled behind Atsushi, "Introduce yourself."

Atsushi stepped out of the way, giving Yanagisawa just enough time to recollect himself. The duck-lipped youth stared down at the freshman with a cross between an intimidating smirk and comical smile. (He couldn't decide how he wanted to portray himself to the newest member, so he compromised.) "I'm Yanagisawa Shinya, da ne. I'll be your practice partner."

Mizuki chuckled. "How _forward _of you, Shinya-kun."

Ryoma's previously considering look morphed into a kind of subdued horror, to Yanagisawa's own horror.

"_Mizuki_," Akazawa warned. Didn't he just decide that the quota of traumatization had already been filled?

Mizuki waved him off with a small smile. "Just kidding, just kidding."

"Let's just start the match," Atsushi sighed.

* * *

"One-set match, no tiebreaks!" Yuuta announced from his place at the referee seat. It had been decided, after a small squabble, that he was best suited to be referee; Atsushi was Yanagisawa's usual double's partner, Akazawa had ordered Kaneda to help him stretch, and Mizuki was...Mizuki. "Echizen to serve!"

"Let's play a fun game, _Echizen-kun~_!" Yanagisawa called from the other side of the court, practically singing the freshman's name.

Ryoma wondered if it was too late to return to America.

Pulling a tennis ball from the crate set to the side, Ryoma readied himself for the serve. He wouldn't start out with anything special, preferring to see Yanagisawa's strength first and how far he would be able to push the smaller boy. Ryoma did not often feel pressured in tennis, not unless it was against his older brother or _him_. Perhaps that was why he felt slightly bitter as he gripped the yellow-green sphere, a sense of nausea rising within him as he lightly tossed the ball up and swung an underhand serve.

As predicted, Yanagisawa hit it back with an effortless swing, his previously goofy expression falling from his face as the rally progressed. It couldn't be because of the difficulty - or, at the very least, Ryoma hoped it wasn't - but slowly, the humor began to fade from Yanagisawa's disposition. The smile wilted into a small frown, the eyes hardening as Yanagisawa realized the pressure was only just starting.

A slice scored Ryoma the first point.

Ryoma's second serve was just like his first and for some reason, Yanagisawa found it mildly affronting. He couldn't quite place the reason as to why he felt irritated - it wasn't like he knew enough about the other boy's skills to be able to tell if he was being serious or not - but that stoic expression was starting to irk him. Yanagisawa knew his fair share of implacable opponents; those that wouldn't so much as blink at his ridiculous statements or activities.

Echizen Ryoma was different. His facial expression would waver, especially at the points where Yanagisawa would prove he was no mediocre player - he was a Saint Rudolph _Regular_, goddammit - or when he began to serve. Yanagisawa couldn't name what he saw flash through the younger boy's eyes; there were too many emotions all at once, the boy's attention both wholly fixated on the match yet seeing something else entirely at the same time.

"What's wrong, Yanagisawa-senpai?" _Topspin backhand_. "You're not smiling anymore."

Yanagisawa caught lit golden eyes as he raced forward and smashed the ball cross-court.

Goosebumps erupted along Yanagisawa's skin, even as he dashed back to his previous position when Ryoma effortlessly hit back a lob. What _was _wrong with him? This match wasn't particularly straining; the rallies were simple, Ryoma's hits easily returned and hardly requiring maximum effort. Still, there was something about this match that-that _tried _him, though he could not appropriately express it. Something that ran underneath the moves, something that glided along with the ball that soared across from one court to another. Whatever it was, it had infected Yanagisawa like a poison, spreading throughout his limbs. His own movements felt sluggish, uncoordinated, and graceless.

"45-love!" Yuuta called out.

Ryoma took up position to serve. Beneath the rim of the fila cap, Yanagisawa caught it - the upturn of lips into a smirk.

Was he enjoying this?

The boy tossed the ball up, following not too long after as he swept his racket forward.

Yanagisawa remained frozen, eyes wide as he stared unseeingly at the other side of the court. His body remained perched in position to meet the incoming ball, but he hadn't moved. The ball itself had grinded against the ground in one spot for a moment before shooting upwards, narrowly missing the older boy's face by mere centimeters. It practically screamed against the fence it was eventually caught in before dropping back to the ground amidst a deafening silence.

"_Mizuki_," Akazawa hissed under his breath. He finally saw what it was that he had seen in the clubhouse just moments ago; the cold that had settled acorss his skin, the fear that stifled his movements at the mere sight of those eyes.

Mizuki tilted his head, his face carefully set at neutral as calculations ran beneath his eyes. "Aa," he breathed in understanding. He strode forward - subsequently interrupting Yuuta's call for a change in court. Yanagisawa had relaxed his stance but his feet had yet to budge; Echizen was already at the net, looking up as Mizuki and Akazawa approached him.

"That's enough for today," Akazawa ordered, coming up to stand beside Echizen. The younger boy looked up at him questioningly but Akazawa couldn't tell if the other boy was disappointed or just didn't care either way; it was a bit difficult to read behind that indifferent stare. "This match was merely to gauge your skill."

"And what an impressive skill it is!" Mizuki interjected from the side. "To think that someone so small and cute would have such talent! I suppose Saint Rudolph has been graced with another miracle!"

Echizen snorted, shouldering his racket. "So the match is over?"

"You can continue later if you want. For now, however, it seems our fellow club members have finished their laps." Mizuki answered, still smirking as he motioned vaguely to where the other members were slowly starting to trickle in from the side gate. "Besides, that little display - it was a Twist Serve, was it not? - was more than enough to cement the deal. You'll become a Regular immediately, of course, Ryoma-chan!"

"_What?" _Yuuta, Atsushi, and Kaneda cried out in perfectly astonished unison.

Echizen just looked annoyed. "'-_chan_?'"

Mizuki chuckled at their response, eyes practically glittering in mirth. "Well of course. Sasabe is our only other option in terms of skill, and he can't even score a single point off Shinya-kun. It only makes sense for Ryo-chan to take the mantle."

"'_Ryo-chan'_?" came the icy echo from said first year.

Mizuki looked at him liked a parent does to their errant but lovable child. "Would you prefer Ecchi-kun?"

"I would _prefer _my name to be said correctly."

"Don't be so snippy, Ryo-chan."

"Mizuki-senpai," Kaneda interrupted gently, looking at the newest member in mild concern. "Don't you think this is a little too sudden? I mean, Echizen-kun just transferred in today, and he's probably not used to the school enviornment yet-"

"The most important decisions are made instantaneously," Mizuki said, any and all of his amusement disappearing as he stared at his teammate. He glanced over at Akazawa, receiving only a small nod of acceptance from the captain. A brilliant smile lit the manager's lips as he turned to face the small crowd of club members that had gethered onto the courts, seemingly interested in the unknown boy among them.

"Ah, good, is everyone here then?" Mizuki didn't wait to hear a response. "This is Echizen Ryoma; Saint Rudolph's tennis club's newest Regular."

A moment of silence, before it was followed by a loud cacophony of shocked exclamations.

Mizuki just chortled. "Say hello to your new family, Ryo-chan."

Ryoma glanced from one agitated face to another.

...Maybe Seishun Gakuen would have been a better choice after all.

* * *

**Chapter One End.**

_A/N:_ I cite Creative License for...pretty much all of Saint Rudolph. XD I actually adore Mizuki, so don't expect any bashing in this fic, though there will be some moments where you'll want to smash his head in for being an idiot. And Kaneda-oh, I won't even tell you what I have planned for him. (_maniacal laugh_)

Kudos to anyone who could place the mentioned-in-passing characters, Shindou Hikaru and Kubota Makoto. I don't like making OCs, so I'll probably just throw in small snapshots of random characters.

_Reviews are greatly appreciated and critiques are heartily welcomed!_


	2. A Talent, Followed

**A/N**: Not much, I guess. For the reviewers who had questions, you'll find your answers in the fic eventually! XD As long as you continue reading, in any case. Though there isn't much tennis in this chapter...

**Warnings**: AU!Everything, obviously, since Ryoma isn't at Seigaku. Some of his history will be changed (isn't that a trademark of a Ryoma-goes-to-a-different-school-plot anyway?), as well as some of his skill set. He has some...abilities...that he never had in the series. And Saint Rudolph is under Creative License.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own. Ditto for last chapter.

**Pairings**: None, _really_. Ignore Mizuki's advances, he doesn't mean it..._usually_.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

**"Everyone has talent.**

**What is rare is the courage to follow the talent**

**to the dark place where it leads."**

_-Erica Jong_

* * *

News had spread quickly throughout the halls of Saint Rudolph's of the tennis club's newest Regular. A transfer student freshman from America had earned his place among some of the school's star athletes, and the students were torn between admiring him for his new position - and pitying him for it. It was a well-known fact among the students that the tennis players were among the strangest people to ever grace the halls of Saint Rudolph. (Factoring in that their secretary was a psychopath with a meter-long braid with a fetish for knives, that they've never actually _seen _their principal, and a majority of their teachers suffered from such severe 'personality quirks' that they were better suited to be patients at a mental hospital, the fact that it was their _tennis players _that scared them spoke volumes.)

For his part, Echizen Ryoma was completely indifferent to the matter. The following morning, he found himself at breakfast, still not completely awake and hazily following a composed Kubota and his excitable companion (_What was his name again? _Ryoma wondered. _Tokibo or something_...). He took a seat a table away from the pair since he didn't want to intrude and it looked like they were sharing an intimate moment, so Ryoma found himself suitably alone.

That is, until Fuji Yuuta came up next to him and sat down like this was a completely normal affair.

When Yanagisawa followed shortly after, Atsushi at his heels, Ryoma knew this had to be a conspiracy. He entertained the idea of escaping to the roof or something, but he had already purchased his breakfast - English-style, much to his disgust - and didn't want to go through the morning on an empty stomach as he wandered around the school.

"Don't worry, Echizen-kun," Atsushi said, as if he could read the other's train of thought. "We're just here for your protection."

Ryoma was tempted to ask 'Protection from what?' but then Mizuki made his appearance and apparently answered that question as well.

"Good morning, Yuuta-kun, Atsushi-kun, Shinya-kun, and, of course," he began, setting his tray of food down and throwing his arms around Ryoma's shoulders in dramatized affection, "Ryo-chan!"

"Get off of me, Mizuki-senpai!"

"Mizuki-san, Echizen-kun needs to eat," Yuuta stated, looking over Ryoma's form. "If we want him to grow any taller, at least."

"But then he wouldn't be at the perfect glomp-height, da ne!" Yanagisawa pointed out, as if the reason was perfectly sound. Then, to add insult to injury, he leaned over to hug the smaller boy as well once Mizuki had let go.

One tanned fist came crashing down on top of the duck-lipped youth's head and Yanagisawa let go of the freshman with a cry of pain. Akazawa loomed over him with a dark expression, one hand balancing his own tray of food as he gave his Regulars an intense stare. "You are causing a scene in the Dining Hall. Knock it off."

Kaneda, behind the captain, was beaming at his teammates with a warm smile. "Good morning, everyone!"

"You know, Yoshirou-kun," Mizuki said, once Akazawa and Kaneda had also seated themselves among the others. It was amusing to note that Ryoma was starting to look like a trapped cat. "You're supposed to give children both verbal and physical affection so that they can grow up as healthy individuals. Aren't we just doing our duty as senpai when we dote on our cute little Ryo-chan?"

_Pervert_, Ryoma thought, glaring at the unrepentant manager.

"Your _'cute little Ryo-chan' _looks ready to bash your head in with his cup of tea," Atsushi pointed out dryly.

Mizuki pouted, but the look was lost when a third of the Dining Hall burst into excitable '_awww'_s of appreciation. (It was never good to get his harem started in the middle of a meal, Mizuki had learned.) "See? He's already losing some of his sociable touch. It is absolutely necessary to help Ryo-chan get through his school career as a happy, amicable boy! We'll start by calling him 'Ryo-chan'."

"_What_?" Ryoma ground out.

Yanagisawa eyed the freshman warily. "I think I'll stick to calling him 'Ryoma-kun'."

"Agreed," Atsushi added hastily, Yuuta nodding at his side.

"Calling each other more familiarly can only build closer bonds!" Kaneda put in emphatically. "You can call me Ichirou-senpai, Ryoma-kun."

"_No_." Mizuki cut in, smile dropping and looking ultimately frightening. "Ryo-chan will have to call all of us _'Oniichan'_."

The silence that followed this statement was absolute.

Atsushi's previously blank face morphed into a highly amused smirk, and Yanagisawa appeared to be sharing his double's partner's humor. Kaneda looked as if he had just been told his favorite anime series had a sequel and he'd be getting its box set while Yuuta seemed bashfully pleased at this turn. (As the youngest in the Fuji family, Yuuta had always secretly wanted a younger sibling that he could shelter and protect.)

Ryoma looked ready to kill them all._ "No." _was the deadpan response.

Akazawa cast a chuckling Mizuki a calculating look. While the wavy-haired youth just seemed to enjoy getting under people's skin and mercilessly manipulating situations to his advantage, he also knew how to read people better than Akazawa thought was possible. Sometimes - well, okay, _most _of the time - he used this ability to either his own advantage or for the destruction of another; however, there were times when he would strictly use it to help.

This time, in this situation, it had to be the latter. Simply because Akazawa had asked him to.

"Ryoma-kun," Akazawa entered, ignoring the downcast looks the other Regulars were sporting due to the freshman's immediate rejection of the idea, "You will listen to Mizuki on this matter. If you do not do as he instructs, don't expect any help from the others."

Ryoma stared at him as if to ask why he should care.

Slowly, devious smirks began to spread among the faces of Saint Rudolph's tennis Regulars.

* * *

Ryoma hadn't foreseen any complications when Akazawa had imposed the rule over him. In all honesty, it had seemed more like a godsend; he was practically told 'we'll leave you alone so long as you don't do what Mizuki told you to'. Besides, what kind of crazy condition was that? Why would they want him to call them all 'older brother'? It was a ridiculous idea.

So it was understandable, all things considered, that he was utterly confused to find himself alone on the tennis courts. He briefly wondered if the rest of the club members had went jogging, but that idea was shot down when he entered the locker room to find it as empty as the tennis courts.

Leaving the tennis courts, Ryoma ambled back inside the corridors of Saint Rudolph's with a vaguely confused look on his face. Indifference was making an attempt to slide over his facial features but the confused glint in his eyes must have been apparent enough, as a teacher stopped him on the way to his homeroom class. The man was a tall Caucasian with a slanted mop of brunette hair and green eyes, his expression that of perfect stoicism.

"You are a tennis club member," That was definitely a statement, but Ryoma inclined his head anyway.

"The tennis club only meets together to practice once a week. Did your captain not explain this to you?"

Ryoma stared up at him blankly. The teacher took that as a 'no.'

Placing one hand on the freshman's shoulder without another word, the man guided the boy down the halls. Ignoring the looks garnered - why were so many of the gazes _envious_? - the pair arrived at a class that was most assuredly not Ryoma's homeroom. Opening the door to the surprised faces of several seniors only cemented this fact.

"Barton-sensei," the teacher of the class greeted cordially. Chinese in every aspect except the language in which he spoke, all the way down to his chosen clothing of a white tunic.

Ryoma was distracted from wondering if having a ponytail that tight actually hurt when the familiar figures of both Akazawa and Mizuki stood.

"Pardon the intrusion, Chang-sensei. May I speak to Akazawa-kun and Mizuki-kun." Again with the not-questions. Why did the man even bother to start off with a slight inquiry? The other teacher seemed to understand, though, and motioned for the two seniors to do as requested.

As the two approached the tall teacher and his reluctant captive, Ryoma noticed with rising indignation that the seniors looked _amused_.

_Bastards_, Ryoma scowled.

"Oh my, did Ryo-chan get into trouble?" Mizuki asked, all innocent concern. "What a _naughty _boy."

Ryoma knew he wasn't imagining the sultry tone behind that, but he still cursed the fact that he flushed a bright crimson. Barton-sensei just raised his eyebrow, but at Akazawa's unconcerned expression, probably figured this was a common occurence. Ryoma was disturbed to note that the man found nothing wrong with this fact.

"Not quite. As his senpai in the club, however," Barton-sensei intoned, "You have the responsibility to inform him of your club hours."

"Oh?" Mizuki mused. "But we thought he knew! I mean, he never _asked_."

Ryoma glared.

"We'll take better care of him, Barton-sensei. Sorry to trouble you," Akazawa apologized easily.

_What am I, a pet?_ Ryoma sulked.

Barton-sensei just nodded and walked away, leaving the poor freshman at the mercy of two now-smirking seniors. Ryoma slid a wary look over at the two teens, which was the exact moment he realized he was lost. (It wasn't exactly his fault; he only recognized the hallways of the freshmen's wing.)

"Something wrong, Ryo-chan?" Mizuki asked.

_You can stop mind-raping me_, Ryoma was tempted to snap but knew that wouldn't help his situation much. Or at all. Instead, he looked up at the two grudgingly. "Senpai, how do I get back to the freshmen's wing?"

Akazawa - damn him to the depths of Hell - looked elsewhere, as if the door to classroom 3-B was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. Mizuki just smirked wider as he abruptly invaded Ryoma's personal space. "I'm sorry, what was that, Ryo-chan? I couldn't quite catch what you said."

_This has to be a form of hazing_, Ryoma thought acidicly.

Giving the two a glare - to their amusement, much to Ryoma's own indignation - the freshman turned on his heel and stalked off.

* * *

Being twenty minutes late to his homeroom class had not endeared him to his teacher, but Ryoma actually counted this in his favor; he wasn't sure he _wanted _to play teacher's pet to a man whose vocabulary consisted of "Hn!" and "I'll kill you." He _was _starting to understand how freaks like his senpai came about, however. If Yuy-sensei was what was considered a normal teacher at Saint Rudolph's, it was only logical that the student body be even weirder.

Lunchtime didn't roll around quick enough, in Ryoma's opinion. As he was too hesitant to wander around in search of a way to the roof thanks to this morning's incident, he dociley allowed his seat partner - Hanamura Yosuke - to lead him to the Dining Hall. Joining a table with a bespectacled boy with a head of dark silver hair and a petite boy with a disposition similar to a kitten, Ryoma decided he was going to find the way to the roof sooner rather than later. Especially as the kitten-esque boy went into another lovestruck speech about _his own father_. The fact that both Yosuke and Souji - the one with glasses - didn't look as disturbed by this as they really should be made Ryoma all the more wary.

A burst of excitement near the doors caught most of the attention in the Dining Hall.

"Ah! It's Mizuki-senpai!" Ryoma refused to believe Yosuke sounded completely enamored.

Sure enough, though, Mizuki had strutted his way inside the Dining Hall, pulling along a less-than-excited Fuji Yuuta. There also seemed to be a gaggle of boys trailing behind them like a mass of drooling fanboys, but honestly - Ryoma _didn't want to know_. Yosuke was completely lost to his fantasy daze, however, but both Souji and Mira (the kitten boy) didn't look very interested.

"Papa is prettier," Mira grumbled, which pretty much explained _everything_.

"They're you senpai in the tennis club, ne, Echizen?" Yosuke murmured enviously, which cemented him as 'utterly deranged' in Ryoma's mind. "I'm no good at tennis, so I didn't want to join; pretty much stuck with the AV club."

Ryoma eyed him warily. _AV? Adult video?_

That probably wasn't a good question to ask the other boy right now.

"Ah, that's right! You're a Regular now, aren't you, Ryoma-kun!" Mira exclaimed, turning shining eyes to the other freshman. "That's so _cool!"_

"Not really," Ryoma replied honestly. As far as he could see, there was nothing _'cool' _about having a bunch of freaks around him.

Souji muttered something about how humble he was, which was such a lie, since Ryoma damn well knew he had enough arrogance to rile even the most easygoing of individuals. He supposed it didn't matter though, since so far, Souji was beginning to look like the only decent person he's met in Saint Rudolph. Or, at least, the closest one to being almost normal.

"_Ryo-chaaaan_!"

_God damn it_, Ryoma cursed inwardly, immediately steeling himself just before arms wrapped around him with a distinct feeling of deja vu.

"Look, Yuuta-kun! Ryo-chan is eating with all of his little friends. Isn't he just _cute_?" Mizuki commented, still wrapped around the freshman like a second jacket. Yuuta came up behind them, raising an eyebrow and looking rather amused.

Ryoma scowled. "I can't eat if you're _clinging _to me, Mizuki-senpai."

"You're supposed to call me 'Haji-niichan', Ryo-chan," Mizuki chided, pulling off a very alluring smirk that practically sent Yosuke into a catharsis.

Ryoma glowered. "Yadda."

"Ah, how sweet!" Mira piped up. "You're so lucky to have so many caring senpai, Ryoma-kun!"

Ryoma sent him a glare that had withered even the most daring of souls. As it was, Mira just grinned brightly back at him before sucking up the last of his juice. Souji, once again, remained indifferent; he seemed rather focused on finishing off the last morsels in his bentou while simultaneously trying to keep Yosuke conscious.

"It's terrible, though!" Mizuki continued, turning imploring eyes to the table's inhabitants. "Since Ryo-chan is just so shy-"

Ryoma choked.

"-he's too nervous to call us 'oniichan'. We're trying to make him more comfortable here at Saint Rudolph's, so everyone should encourage him!" Mizuki's voice had raised in the progress of his speaking, making the entire conversation audible to the Dining Hall. Ryoma fervently wished he had his hat on just so he could hide his shame beneath the bill.

"Of course we'll help!" Mira agreed excitedly, having become the group's spokesperson. "Since we're friends now, Ryoma-kun, it's only natural for us to help you break out of your shell!"

_I'm about to break your face_, Ryoma thought viciously.

"If it's what Mizuki-senpai wants," a popular second-year by the name of Sakamoto Akira spoke up, "The second years will be glad to help you."

Ryoma's eyes widened as he fully realized the implications of what Mizuki had just done. _Hell no_, he thought in shock.

"Sounds noble," third-year Murata Ken added cheerfully, "We seniors support you, ne?"

_Just what kind of hold does he have on this school? _Ryoma wondered, having now launched into a panic-induced haze.

"Well," Yuuta interrupted brightly, ruffling Ryoma's hair with utmost affection, "You should probably just give in. Though your stubbornness _is _rather cute."

"_Isn't it?" _Mizuki squealed.

Ryoma gave his lunch a considering look. A chopstick was just narrow enough to be used as a tool for murder, he was sure, and after the fact he could balme it on stress. The teachers probably wouldn't even blink an eye at a freshman murdering a senior with a chopstick anyway.

"Ah," Souji noted, "Ryoma-kun is thinkin homicidal thoughts again."

Ryoma stared at the youth, utterly betrayed, as Mizuki cooed at how 'adorable' the thought of Ryoma committing murder was.

* * *

**A/N**: This chapter was more of an establish-the-place and character-relations thing. I'm just surprised no one has asked what's up with Ryoma...I mean, something seems off with him to me, but then again, I _know _what's off with him... XD

Again, reminder: **I take Creative License with ALL of Saint Rudolph**. XD If I want it to be a boys-only boarding school where a majority of the populace worships the ground Mizuki treads, I damn well can. Besides, isn't the mental-imagery of that _hilarious?_

On another note...I can't believe I just established a Freshman Fanboy Trio for Ryoma at Saint Rudolph. On the upside, they'll be a lot more disturbing than their canon counterparts!


	3. A Hope, Rejected

**A/N:** To answer a few questions and concerns some readers have had:

_-1_. Yes, Ryoma will eventually meet all of the tennis players he met in the actual series, including Seigaku and the American team. Just because he went Rudolphian doesn't mean I have to isolate him. XD

_-2._ While the Rudolphians aren't the greatest in tennis, it isn't the tennis that this fic is focusing on-though there will be plenty of tennis in it, because this is the_ Prince of Tennis_ universe, after all. I can't explain much more without giving everything away, so just continue to read. :)

_-3_. Any questions about Nanjiroh will be answered in the fic eventually. _Promise_.

**Disclaimer**: Do not own.

**Warnings**: Indecent innuendos, deviating histories, and eventually this story will completely deviate from the canon timeline/events.

**Pairings**: None that I know of, though I think a few of the background characters are sleeping with each other behind my back, the little bastards.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

* * *

**"He who has never hoped can never despair."**

_-George Bernard Shaw_

* * *

_"Oh! Echizen-kun! Your Atsushi-niisan was looking for you!"_

_"Ryoma-kun, your Ichirou-niisan wanted to remind you that there's practice tomorrow!"_

_"Echizen, your Youshirou-niisan said to finish your homework early, the Regulars are doing group excercises in the gym tonight."_

_"Ryoma-kun, your Yuuta-niisan-"_

_"Then your Shinya-niisan said-"_

_"Oh, by the way, your Haji-niisan wanted to know if you-"_

"Echizen!" Yosuke greeted brightly, coming up to the freshman slouched over his desk looking like death warmed over. "You'll never guess what your-"

"If you even think about including any form of '-niisan' in that sentence, I'm slicing you open with my protractor," Ryoma growled, lifting his head to give the other boy a golden-eyed glare. Yosuke backed up a step out of self-preservation, but the wide grin on his face had yet to waver. After a moment of awkward silence, he went forward another few steps to pat Ryoma on the head in what he thought was a consoling manner.

"Are you being shy again, Echizen?" Yosuke chuckled.

_I just threatened to murder you - how is that being shy? _Ryoma mused angrilly, half-heartedly swiping the other's hand away from his abused mane.

"Anyway, what's so bad about calling your senpai in the club 'oniisan'?" Yosuke asked, all innocent concern. "I mean, that's basically stating they're responsible for you, and they'll be more lenient with you since they want to be so close. Doesn't seem like a bad deal to me."

Ryoma rested his head back down on his crossed arms, face down to stare at the desk. He was scowling, though Yosuke probably couldn't see it; it wasn't an angry scowl that he seemed to always have on these days - this one was thoughtful and on the verge of looking almost pouty.

"I don't want anyone to be responsible for me," Ryoma muttered. "I can be responsible for myself. I don't need anyone else."

Yosuke leaned back in his chair comfortably, smile gone and looking thoughtful. "Yeah?" He paused, glancing out the window to see some of the second years going through the Physical Education class - Fuji Yuuta and Kaneda Ichirou among them.

"I think you should enjoy it a little, Echizen," Yosuke said, turning back to his seatmate. "Let them pamper you. It sounds like you need it more than you know."

And for the first time, Ryoma wondered what it was about Saint Rudolph students that made them so damn nosy but compassionate at the same time.

* * *

Echizen Ryoma was digging a hole.

No, not metaphorically; a true, honest-to-God hole in the ground. The hole was about half his size and about as deep as the height of his knees. The mound of dirt piled up next to him was dry and continually attempted to slip back into its former space, much to his irritation, but most of his annoyance was reserved for the smirking youth nearby who was watching his suffering with ill-concealed amusement.

"How does this relate to tennis _at all?" _Atsushi grumbled, digging his own hole just a few feet away from Ryoma's. His hole was deeper than Ryoma's by a good few centimeters, as well as wider; Ryoma convinced himself he wasn't at all bitter about this. And if a few clumps of his dirt pile somehow found their way into the headband youth's hole, it was all just an unfortunate accident.

Yuuta was casting the freshman a criticizing look as he dug out his own hole, though he made no comment.

"Don't be so hostile, Atsushi-kun! Of course it's for tennis practice!" Mizuki chuckled from the side, noticeably _not _digging a hole and instead sipping at a water cup daintily.

Atsushi snorted. "More like free labor. These going to be the graves for the people who have pissed you off recently?"

"If that were the case," Mizuki sniffed, "Then Ryo-chan's hole would have to be a bit bigger, unless I'm burying someone's pet as well."

Ryoma gave him a glare that would have burned skin off, had his face not been smudged with dirt and he was laboring to breathe. As it was, Mizuki erupted into a fit of chuckles, crooning something that sounded somewhat like "So cute!" and forcing Ryoma's hackles to rise.

"Why aren't you digging as well, da ne?" Yanagisawa demanded of the smugly grinning senior.

Mizuki gave him a scandalized look. "Then who would watch over all of you to make sure you're getting through the excercise as you're supposed to? I, generously, volunteered myself for the task on missing out on this great excercise so that you all could excel!"

"_Lies!"_

"_Slave-driver!"_

"_You're a sadistic, wavy-haired psychopath!"_

"Shut up and shovel, boys." Mizuki waved off their complaints in complete disinterest.

_I'm going to make this deep enough so no one would be able to find __**his **__body_, Ryoma inwardly swore, plunging back into his work with fervor. This seemed to be a thought shared with the others as they dug at their appointed task with the occasional glare thrown at the youth in violet.

When Akazawa finally made his way over, he once again wondered why he even bothered showing up late to practice if he was just going to see _this_. Patience was a virtue, though, and one he was swiftly running low on; it didn't help that Kaneda - misguided soul that he was - had latched onto his captian's leg with a pitiful look of hope in his eyes, face practically caked in dirt.

"Mizuki," Akazawa managed out, brow twitching, "_Why?"_

Mizuki lowered his cup of water, a thoughtful look on his face as he ever-so-casually crossed his legs.

"...I thought it would be funny."

The silence that spread after this announcement could only be rivalled by a graveyard.

Atsushi sprung out of his hole, face unusually blank as he stalked forward. "I'm going to _kill you_."

Of course, Mizuki burst into laughter at this (rather murderous) response, tilting his head back and inspiring his countless fans to snap pictures in dizzying glee so that they'd have something to look at and adore late into the night.

"I'm just joking, Atsushi-kun!" Mizuki chortled, absently shoving his half-drunk cup of water at the headband-youth. "This excercise is to help you develop strength and stamina! We don't have much state-of-the-art technology yet, so we have to improvise, ne? Nfu fu fu!"

The killer intent lessened to almost acceptable proportions, though Yuuta swore he heard Ryoma mutter "Kill him anyway."

"In any case," Mizuki started, turning a benignly curious look towards Akazawa, "Why are you so late, Yoshirou-kun? I've been so _terribly _lonely."

Akazawa appeared to take no notice at the obvious advance; he was far too used to it at this point. "My homeroom teacher kept me after longer than expected. The staff finally caught on to our plan and I spent an hour trying to convince Chang-sensei that our treatment of Ryoma-chan wasn't another form of injustice and that I shouldn't burn in the flames of Nataku's vengeance."

The completely deadpan recount left a variety of slack-jawed faces. Yuuta and Kaneda, who only knew of classroom 3-B's homeroom teacher through rumors, were left staring in utter incomprehension while all of the present seniors shuddered in mild horror. Ryoma's mind had frozen as the words 'Ryoma-chan' passed through Akazawa's lips and refused to process anything else.

"He only ranted for an hour?" Atsushi mused, impressed. "You lucky bastard. He kept my class after for nearly_ four hours_ after Shibuya-kun accidentally set his chemistry project on fire!"

Yuuta glanced at him, a perplexed look on his face. "Wasn't that when your class decided to start a rebellion and made a firepit in the middle of the chemistry lab?"

_"That's not the point!"_

Akazawa interrupted the quickly-brewing defensive argument before it got started and Atsushi was reduced to tears because of logic - _again_. "I probably would have been kept well past dinner, except Yuy-sensei came by and demanded to speak with Chang-sensei. I think they're plotting to kill me as we speak."

"Doesn't Yuy-sensei have a gun?" Yuuta asked innocently, as if they weren't discussing Akazawa's possible murder.

Ryoma had never wanted to go back to more hole-digging in his entire life. In fact, he had never wanted to dig a hole in his entire life, so the burning to desire to do so at this very moment was rather astonishing. But then he remembered - in his hands he had a shovel. A large, heavy plate of metal was attached to a thick wooden pole. This wasn't a tool to dig up dirt - it was a possible _weapon!_

The sudden epiphany made him a little light-headed. He had a weapon, and he was in perfect range to smite those who had went against him and otherwise annoy or undermine him. Hell, he could start with Mizuki, follow it up with Akazawa, and then just go hack-and-slash on whoever was left. There would be no stopping him. It would be a rampage worthy of those C-rated horror movies!

..._God_, he needed to stop playing those lame mass-murder games with Kubota's little boyfriend.

Akazawa swiped the shovel from his hands before he could reflect on his hesitancy.

* * *

Ryoma hadn't had an older brother since he was nine years old.

He was inexperienced when it came to the relationships in a family; his mother constantly worked and was hardly seen except for her phantom appearances on the weekends, but even those were rare. His only older brother figure had been Ryoga, but their relationship was testy at best, distant at worst. Ryoga had been there, but he wavered between real and absent throughout Ryoma's memories. His father had been the one constant in his life, the sole reason Ryoma had felt real and truly alive; he had been Ryoma's anchor to life, to family, to _everything_.

After the _everything _snapped away into nothing, after his mother became the constant figure in his life - only after that did Ryoga leave for good. There had been periods where he had threatened to leave before, of course, for what kind of teenager doesn't rebel? But they come back - _they always come back_.

After that last argument between Ryoga and his mother, when the teen had been hurriedly packing away his clothes for the umpteenth time, Ryoma had edged into the room with nothing but the innocent sadness only a child could feel.

_"You'll come back, right?"_

_"...Of course, chibisuke. I just-I just can't stay right now, okay?"_

_"As long as you promise to come back!"_

_"I will, chibisuke, I will."_

Ryoga always had been such a good liar.

"Ryo-chaaaan!"

Ryoma's eyes snapped open, the harsh glare of the sun obscured by a pale face encompassed with wavy black hair. Undoubtedly, the youth's fanboys would have found the moment to be evidence of Mizuki Hajime's angelic beauty, but Ryoma wasn't one of them and was too busy being annoyed that his nap had been interrupted to even bother with the imagery.

"What do you want, Mizuki-senpai?"

"It's 'Haji-niisan'," Mizuki corrected immediately, "And Yuuta-kun wants to know if you've eaten lunch yet. His class made bentou lunches in Home Economics today, so he was going to share with you."

Ryoma, in fact, hadn't eaten yet, and he was frugal enough to take what was offered to him without question or complaint. Standing up and dusting himself off absently, he followed after Mizuki towards where the Regulars had gathered for their lunch and impromptu-strategy meeting. From what Ryoma had learned, they were entering the prefecturals and would soon be going up against Ginka Junior High School.

Mizuki had claimed that there would be little trouble with this batch of tennis players, but Akazawa wanted them all ready and alert just the same, so they'd spent the last few days dragging each other into group meetings whenever convenient.

"Finally found him, da ne?" Yanagisawa greeted airily, settled in the most crooked ellipse Ryoma had seen with the other Regulars. Mizuki just gave his trademark chuckle before sitting down to Akazawa's right, pulling down Ryoma to sit between him and Yuuta. The brunette boy smiled at Ryoma in greeting, placing the previously-mentioned bento adjacent to both of them and handing Ryoma a set of unused chopsticks.

"Thanks," Ryoma murmured, snapping the proffered chopsticks into use.

"It's 'thank you, Yuuta-niisan'." Yuuta corrected offhandedly before turning back to the conversation between Akazawa, Mizuki, and Atsushi. Ryoma just rolled his eyes and dug into the lunch.

"I've already predicted their line-up order," Mizuki began, talking around the end of a lollipop and otherwise looking sexily-teasing to his more deprived fanbase. "Ginka tends to hit hard first, with their Doubles Two pair being the stronger pair while Doubles One follows with a more mediocre attack. I believe they think they're being cunning with their strategy: stronger players in Doubles Two, Single Three, and Singles Two, while the weaker members dally around Doubles and Singles One."

"If they're as weak as you say," Atsushi commented, "Then they probably think they have a better chance fighting for the title in some of the lower slots, rather than the higher ones. Most of the seeded teams tend to put their stronger players in Doubles and Singles One."

"Exactly!" Mizuki approved cheerfully. "I don't think anyone here would have any trouble with any of Ginka's members. As such, I've based our line-up order like a practice session."

"Mizuki," Akazawa sighed, not very pleased with this revelation.

"It's fine, Yoshirou-kun!" Mizuki waved off. "Ichirou-kun and I will take Doubles Two against Suzuki and Tashiro. Ichirou-kun needs to be more comfortable in Doubles positions, so I'll be there to _guide him through it_." Cue sketchy smirk.

_Thank god I'm not the only one_, Ryoma thought rather spitefully as Kaneda turned a bright red.

"For Doubles One, it will be Shinya-kun and Atsushi-kun against Itou and Gouki. Just think about getting more used to each other, ne, you two?"

Atsushi snorted but Yanagisawa nodded his head good-naturedly.

"For Singles Three," Here, a large smirk spread across Mizuki's lips as his eyes turned to Ryoma, "Ryo-chan gets to go up against their captain, Fukushi."

"Mizuki-san!" Kaneda and Yuuta snapped in alarm.

Ryoma cocked his head. "Any good?"

Mizuki chuckled, turning back to his pages of notes with a devious smile. "Somewhat. Let's see if he's decent enough to entertain you, Ryo-chan. I still haven't gotten enough information on you quite yet. The match should be informative, at the very least."

Ryoma snorted and turned back to his food.

To the side, Yuuta wondered why Mizuki just didn't pit Ryoma against one of them in a practice match for his much-needed information.

* * *

**A/N**: Haha, Obvious Hint is Obvious. XD This chapter was _waaaay _shorter than it should have been, but the chapters will start getting longer from here on out. There was just a few pivotal plot pieces I needed to ground in this chapter.

To a few readers, if you've figured it out: YES, Kubota and Tokito are from _Wild Adapter_, Shindou Hikaru is from _Hikaru no Go_, Murata Ken and Shibuya (Yuuri) are from _Kyou Kara Maou_, Yosuke and Souji are from _Persona 4_, and Mira is from _Papa to Kiss in the Dark_. I'm actually just surprised no one has commented on where the teachers are from. -_agonized_- Don't you guys remember those _classics_?


	4. A Lesson, Learned

**A/N**: Thank you for your reviews! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own.

**Warnings**: _Mizuki_. Yeah, his name now counts as a warning in and of itself. When I finally get to Fuji Syuusuke, his name will _also _serve as a warning in and of itself. And Yukimura. Oh god, _Yukimura_.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

* * *

**"A man who carries a cat by the tail**

**learns something he can learn in no other way."**

_-Mark Twain_

* * *

Somehow, arguing didn't seem to be a great idea. Not only would it be a momentous waste of both time and energy, it would also do no good for him in this particular situation. Arguments, after all, had some kind of basis in logic - which Ryoma knew had absolutely no relationship to _any _of the students currently inhabiting Saint Rudolph.

Four pairs of eyes stared back at him from smiling faces, completely unrepentant. Ryoma was under the severe impression that this abrupt invasion of his personal space was going to be common place. He had to remind himself that bursting into uncharacteristic tears was just going to make it worse, as the guilty parties present had made a horrible habit of trying to 'comfort' him in their own special ways.

Yanagisawa was sprawled over Kubota's bed, dubious manga in hand and looking entirely too absorbed in it. Since Ryoma knew it was actually _Kubota's_, it only made the situation that much worse - his roommate was a notorious pervert. Kaneda and Atsushi were sitting across from each other on the floor, engrossed in a heated card game. Some kind of betting pool was prevalent, if the small stack of money by Kaneda's knee was any indication. Yuuta was sitting at Ryoma's desk, rifling through his homework and marking it up like his unannounced tutor.

"What are you doing in my room?" Ryoma growled, before abruptly realizing he didn't care. "Get out."

"That's so mean, Ryoma-kun," Atsushi sighed, noticeably _not _getting out.

Yuuta didn't appear to have even heard him. "Ryoma-kun is very good in English...but I guess that's to be expected..."

"Your roommate has great taste, da ne!" Yanagisawa grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively before turning back to the book. "I wonder if a body can actually _bend like that_..."

Ryoma was going to be traumatized in so many ways before this school year ended, wasn't he? He was tempted to ask why they had chosen _his_ room to invade, but this probably all rooted back to their innate insanity; he had just gotten back from a study group with Yousuke, Souji, and Mira - which was all he could take in the terms of a group of lunatics.

"Is it a bad thing to spend quality time with you?" Atsushi questioned mercilessly.

"Yes." was Ryoma's abrupt answer.

The others weren't affected much by the reply, having gotten used to the younger boy's curt, antisocial demeanor. It was almost cute, in a way, if they ignored all of the snarky barbs and murderous looks that the attitude was coated with.

Yuuta, however, gave a small sigh and stood. "We should probably head out now anyway," he mused. "Curfew is in half an hour."

There were a few mumbles of agreement from the upperclassmen as they picked up their belongings and made to leave, though they did make sure to hug the very reluctant freshman as they proceeded out. Yuuta just smiled at Ryoma - who had visibly stiffened in preparation for an unwanted hug - before ruffling his hair and stepping out.

"Goodnight, Ryoma-kun!" were Yuuta's parting words.

Ryoma stared after the other boy as he turned the corner, before gritting his teeth and slamming his door closed.

* * *

Saint Rudolph tennis practices had to be the strangest sort of training Ryoma had ever endured. Not only was Mizuki a sadistic, sexually-harassing deviant, he also seemed to know _exactly_ what he was doing while giving them drill after drill; Ryoma's speed, strength, and endurace had increased rather spectacularly after spending every other night training with the other Regulars.

The indoor gym that Saint Rudolph featured was also used to facilitate their excercises, which Mizuki and Akazawa agreed _had _to be done together. They had almost convinced their fellow Regulars that a group bath was also necessary to strengthen their play in tennis, but both Atsushi and Ryoma had refused; Atsushi knew both Yanagisawa and Kaneda had some sort of strange fascination with his hair, and Ryoma declined because he feared for his innocence a lot more than usual nowadays.

The actual club practices were a different matter altogether. They would run their laps and do their stretches, and then be divided up and sent into specific drills designed for their groups. Freshmen were forced to practice basic skills and often put into practice matches against each other, while the juniors would take turns watching over them and doing their own set of drills. Seniors and juniors often competed against each other in practice matches, which pretty much made up their practice time.

Regulars weren't so lucky. Mizuki forced them into drill after drill after drill; practices were designed to better their reflexes, make them quicker on their feet, more agile, more maneuverable, stronger - all while not competing at all. At first, Ryoma had been fine with it; hitting a tennis ball at a cone, or a mannequin - _where had Mizuki-senpai even __**gotten **__that_? - or the wall even was fine with him. The drills were fun and they did help him, but after awhile, he started to miss the heat of competition on the courts.

Ryoma was getting bored of drills. He wanted to _compete_.

"When do we get to do practice matches?" Ryoma asked one Tuesday afternoon, standing idly by as he waited for the rest of the club members to finish their stretches so that they could start. Yuuta, Atsushi, and Kaneda were all with him, as Yanagisawa had wandered off in search of his water bottle and Akazawa and Mizuki were supervising.

The three older boys all gave him pointed looks and remained silent. Ryoma glared at them all for a moment, but decided that he was more interested in an answer than he was in this ridiculous game he felt they were playing on him. "When do we get to do practice matches," Ryoma re-iterated in a complete deadpan, "Yuuta-niisan, Atsushi-niisan, Ichirou-niisan."

There was a small moment of victory for the three - well, okay, Kaneda had taken off screaming for the whole school to hear about it - but at least Atsushi and Yuuta sobered up quick enough to realize the younger boy would probably try to beat them to death with his tennis racket if they didn't answer soon.

"It should be today," Yuuta replied, looking completely smitten with his new title.

Atsushi nodded. "I mentioned it to Akazawa-buchou-niisan last night, and he said we'd have some today."

Ryoma just stared at him. "Akazawa-buchou-niisan?" he echoed faintly.

"That's a little too long," Akazawa agreed, seemingly materializing behind the freshman. "I would stick to Yoshirou-niisan."

"I'm not calling you that!" Ryoma growled out, purely on reflex at this point.

"Buchou, everyone has finished their stretches!" Kaneda called out, running back to the small group still wearing that enamored little grin. Ryoma twitched at the sight of it but was forced still by Yuuta's placating hands. Akazawa moved forward and began to assign the groups to their tasks, banishing freshmen to the outer courts while throwing the juniors and seniors into drill practices that were stationed all over the school grounds. Mizuki idled in from where ever he had been previously terrorizing, pulling along a little cart of tennis balls.

"Finally, some actual tennis!" Atsushi said in approval, pulling along Yanagisawa as he swiped a few tennis balls and took off to the nearest court. Yuuta took a few balls as well, but when he started to move towards Ryoma, he was intervened by Mizuki.

"Yuuta-kun, why don't you and Ichirou-kun play a nice little match on Court Three?"

Yuuta paused momentarily before agreeing, giving Ryoma a little shrug as both he and Kaneda moved over to their assigned court. Left by himself once again with the pair of seniors, Ryoma wondered what it was about this school that had him constantly in the vicinity of two perverts at a time. (Oh, sure, Akazawa had _seemed _normal at first, but anyone who allowed Mizuki his fun had to be just as twisted.)

"So who am I playing?" Ryoma asked, since both of the older boys had just stared at him as if he were some sort of entertainment. There were three of them, so obviously someone had to wait for their turn on the courts and Ryoma wasn't going to be that guy; he'd been waiting too long to play an actual match against someone to wait any longer.

Mizuki and Akazawa shared a look before turning back to the freshman with equally-neutral faces.

"Yoshirou-kun and I need to work a little on our serves, Ryo-chan-" Mizuki stared benignly.

"_No_. I'm playing first." Ryoma was quick to interrupt.

"-so you will be serving as referee." Akazawa finished smoothly in a tone that brooked no argument. Ryoma glared at the two for quite a few minutes, but when neither relented, he huffed and shouldered his racket.

"Whatever. I'm playing winner."

Akazawa pulled the racket out of his hands before he could even finish the sentence. "No, you will be referee for all of practice today."

The only thing that finally pulled the attention of the other Regulars from their matches was the the ball cart being slammed to the side, upturned, as Ryoma stalked away from the court.

"...That could have gone better," Mizuki mused in the silence following.

* * *

"Has anyone ever heard the expression _'one step forward, two steps back_'?" Atsushi spoke out dryly, slouched over the lounge's sofa. He seemed perfectly content to spear Akazawa and Mizuki through with his eyes every so often, however, the blame audibly clear.

"Kubota-kun won't even let _Yuuta _in to talk to Ryoma-kun, da ne!" Yanagisawa added.

Yuuta nodded in verification with a slight scowl. "He said he didn't want to risk _disembowelment,_" the junior explained briskly.

Mizuki hummed in acknowledgement, eyes glued to the tennis magazine he was holding. Akazawa glanced from the manager to the slowly-growing-annoyed Regulars, with the exception of Yanagisawa. Akazawa made a mental note of that; it seemed Yanagisawa knew exactly what was going on.

"Ryo-chan can't participate in practice matches with anyone without my or Yoshirou's consent," Mizuki put out lightly, looking for all the world as if the magazine held all of life's secrets and he had just made a passing comment on the weather in the face of it.

Yuuta looked ready to argue that, but Akazawa glared him down and the junior was forced to glower at the authoritative pair conspicuously. Kaneda remained fidgeting at his side though Atsushi was giving them a highly-calculating look, as if he were trying to puzzle them out. Yanagisawa had defaulted into a bored countenance.

"But still," Mizuki sighed theatrically, closing his magazine and putting it aside with his usual amount of flourish. "If we leave him as he is, he'll just become even worse, ne, Yoshirou-kun?"

"What are you planning on doing?" Akazawa asked, having immediately cut through all the bullshit.

Mizuki gave a chuckle. "Say...do you think Sasabe-kun is free right now?"

"_Mizuki_." Displeasure coursed through the word, accompanied by a true Captain Glare.

And, as always, Mizuki brushed it off without thought. "Yoshirou-kun, did you know Sasabe-kun lost to Yuujirou-chan in their practice match today? And, unlike Sasabe-kun, Yuujirou-chan is even highly-compatible in any Doubles combination! He'd make a very fine replacement player, if need be."

Translation: _Sasabe was no longer needed._

"Mizuki-" Akazawa began, but was cut off by _Yanagisawa_, of all people.

"Buchou, you have to think in the terms of what's good for the club," the senior said blithely. It was obvious to the other three Regulars that they were left out of a conversation that clearly had a backstory. "Then it's simple: Sasabe is bad for the club. Ryoma-kun is good for the club. The choice is obvious, da ne."

"The strong eat the weak," Mizuki added wistfully.

Akazawa frowned, but it was only a moment later that he gave Mizuki an approving wave. The manager stood up gracefully, striding in the direction of Ryoma's dormitory without a second thought. He gave Akazawa one last grin over his shoulder with his final call.

"Tell Sasabe-kun to bring his racket and wait at the courts!"

* * *

Yuuta never did find out what happened at the courts between Ryoma and Sasabe. Much like Kaneda, he had been rounded up into an emergency study group when one of their classmates heard they had a quiz in their World History course. Atsushi had offered to go himself and relay the match and subsequent results, but he had been intercepted by Yanagisawa. The senior gave a vague explanation about needing some extra help with his Chemistry homework, but what really had Atsushi going was Akazawa's lingering glare before he agreed. Their captain seemed to be falling into a bad mood whenever anyone mentioned Ryoma's skill in tennis, so most of them regarded it as some sort of obscure, taboo subject.

What Yuuta did hear, in the end, was that Ryoma had won the match in under fifteen minutes. Soon after, he discovered Sasabe had left the tennis club with little explanation and the only time Yuuta saw him was when they passed each other in the corridors. Some pessismistic part of Yuuta was worried the older boy may be sporting injuries - Ryoma's tennis style seemed to hint at violence, by some of the Regulars' reactions - but was relieved to find the arrogant junior unharmed and perfectly whole. Yuuta even brought up this point to Akazawa once, sharing the duty of monitoring a few of the junior-senior practice matches.

"So why can't he play?" Yuuta's eyes were locked on Ryoma, who was currently running through another accuracy-building excercise with Atsushi and Kaneda. The boy had started tolerating them again the morning after his match with Sasabe, so all had pretty much been forgiven and forgotten.

Akazawa followed his line of sight, before grunting and focusing once more on the match between second-years Emishi and Shindou.

"He just can't."

"Why? Sasabe is _fine_."

Yuuta felt he should at least know that much. It was only fair to know the reason behind such discriminatory behavior within their club - Yuuta never wanted to join a club that drew assumptions first. He had had enough of that back in Seigaku; constantly letting people down by not being as gifted as his brother.

"Have you seen him hold a racket?" Akazawa asked abruptly.

Yuuta blinked. Who? Ryoma? The freshman was holding a racket right now!

Akazawa glanced at him. "Sasabe. Have you seen Sasabe hold a racket recently, Yuuta-kun?"

"...No," Yuuta admitted. "He quit the club, and I haven't seen him near the courts since..."

Akazawa turned his gaze over to Ryoma, who was currently trying to emancipate himself from Mizuki's clinging embrace - and failing.

"Sasabe can't," Akazawa stated indifferently. He turned on his heel and strode to the next court. "He's too scared."

* * *

Getting Kaneda and Atsushi to spend the night in his room was (disturbingly) easy, but convincing his roommate to temporarily relocate to another friend's room had been like trying to give a cat a bath. Yuuta privately thought it had more to do with the fact that Mikoto (his roommate) had made best friends of the school's crossdressing mascots than any real room security. Nevertheless, he had convinced Mikoto to go elsewhere for the night; being a constant victim of Mizuki's did have its perks, especially in the field of intimidation.

"Are we having a sleepover?" Atsushi wondered rather belatedly, looking pointedly at their pajamas and the fort of blankets and pillows Kaneda had convinced them to build between the two beds. "Have we really fallen so low?"

"But it's team bonding!" Kaneda refuted immediately.

Atsushi raised an eyebrow. "Missing more than half the team."

"Well, we can't invite Ryoma-kun, since he's the reason I wnated to talk to you guys in the first place," Yuuta started. "Mizuki-san and Buchou don't seem inclined to talk about it, and Yanagisawa-sempai seems to know what's going on as well, so..."

"So it's a People-Who-Have-No-Idea-What-Is-Going-On-And-Who-Are-Only-Regulars thing?" Atsushi posed.

"Yeah," Yuuta answered easily enough, "I mean, can you even imagine inviting the rest of the club to this? Some of them still aren't used to _Mizuki-san _yet."

"Cowards," Atsushi scoffed.

"But what's wrong with Ryoma-kun?" Kaneda asked. "He seems fine now. He even really enjoyed practice today!"

Atsushi gave him an incredulous look. "He put a _dent _in our practice doll."

"Ryoma-kun is just really intense!" Kaneda defended.

"Look, this has nothing to do with practice today. I'm talking about his match with Sasabe and why he can't participate in practice matches! _Which has nothing to do with how big his eyes are_." Yuuta gave Atsushi a particularly hard glare as he said the last part. The senior just snorted.

"His eyes get me all the time, too," Kaneda admitted softly, blushing.

"_Moving on_," Yuuta prompted. "You guys have noticed that they seem..._wary _about Ryoma-kun's tennis, right?"

"It's kind of hard not to," Atsushi pointed out. "We only have to avoid the topic at every opportunity so Akazawa doesn't maim us."

"I asked him about it awhile ago," Yuuta said. "He told me Sasabe quit the club because of what Ryoma-kun did to him. That Ryoma-kun _scared _him."

Kaneda frowned, his face drawn into a look of confusion. "How would Ryoma-kun do that?"

"Shinya..." Atsushi began carefully, "Shinya acts the same way, sometimes. He doesn't really like to go near Ryoma-kun during practice."

Silence lapsed after that, the three eyeing each other as if waiting for someone to come up with a brilliant conclusion. When none looked forthcoming, Atsushi heaved a sigh and rested his chin in his hand.

"Look, we don't have to press it right now, do we? Our match with Ginka is in a few days and Ryoma-kun is in Singles 3; he'll have to play no matter what. Then we'll see exactly what's going on with his playing style."

Kaneda fidgeted for a moment, before looking back at Atsushi. "And then what?"

Yuuta shrugged. "We'll see when we get to that point."

* * *

**A/N**: Most everyone figured out who the teachers are, but for those who didn't... how could you _not _know? Gundam Wing was a true, honest anime classic! A staple of the _Gundam _series! T.T Hmmm...perhaps I'm too old? I was part of the _Wing _Generation, I guess. (Would that make those not in the know part of the _Seed _Generation?) Don't worry about the others, I tried to pick characters from anime whose following weren't that huge. (By the way, the secretary with the braid and the knife-fetish? Totally Duo. XD)

Anyway, I am so excited! The next chapter will have tennis! _Yaaay_! It's going to be Saint Rudolph versus Ginka! Okay, so I know Ginka isn't very popular, but I needed to get the ball rolling somehow. Ryoma's skill set isn't supposed to be unknown and mysterious, _how he got it_ is supposed to be. After Ginka it's going to be a more-well known school, so no worries. 8)

_**Reviews are welcomed and encouraged!**_ It's nice to read what readers think of this story, and how it can be improved and such. (I'm doing a very delicate balance with crossover anime here; the crossover characters are supposed to be little winks-and-nudges for us as anime fans, but if they somehow _overshadow _the story or the actual Prince of Tennis characters, I need you guys to tell me. As the author, I might not even notice, though I swear I'm trying so that they're not.)


	5. A Hate, Discovered

**A/N**: Ahhh...now it's starting to get serious. This has to be the most somber chapter yet! Enjoy this moment of clarity, people; it will only happen in tournament chapters, after all. If the chapter is located in Saint Rudolph, it goes straight back into a drunken stupor. XD Poor Ginka, victimized first...

**Warnings**: AU!everything. Mizuki. (HAH!) Occasionally inappropriate innuendo. Slashy overtones.

**Pairings**: None! _Surprised, aren't you?_

**Disclaimer**: I do not own.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

* * *

**"Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds**

**on the heel that has crushed it."**

_-Mark Twain_

* * *

The day of their first official match in the prefectural tournament had dawned as normal as any other one. Yuuta and Kaneda had dutifully set themselves up for what the tennis club now referred to as 'Ryoma Duty' - where their task laid in rousing the lethargic freshman and getting him to breakfast on time. Mizuki had been sending the younger boy creepy, predatorial looks all throughout the meal, though Atsushi reassured him it was just because the manager loved getting more data and not because he was waiting for an opportune time to jump the younger boy and have his 'perverted, wicked way with him'. Yanagisawa kept snickering and warning Ryoma not to be caught alone in the hallways, especially near any closets. Akazawa had, of course, seen fit to ignoring them all.

The day didn't really start to go downhill until they got into the school's private bus which would take them to the tournament courts.

"I'm going to die," Atsushi groaned, eyes shut tight and clutching on to the seat in front of him as their mode of transport took a left turn at 200 km/hr. "I'm going to die, all because you didn't want to pay 350 yen for a train ticket. Shinya, after I die, I'm going to kill you."

"There's a flaw somewhere in that plan of your's, senpai," Ryoma threw out dryly, looking perfectly unruffled in his own seat. Of course, once the mobile death trap had seen fit to reveal itself as such, Yuuta - Ryoma's seat partner - had practically pinned the younger boy to the window and was maintaining impressive composure as he acted as a live seatbelt.

Yanagisawa just cackled. "It's not like I forced you to, da ne!"

Mizuki was noticeably silent, though his eyes were showing a murderous edge as he glared at the back of their driver's head. Akazawa was muttering what was either a prayer for salvation or a lengthy stream of curses under his breath, attempting to keep his grip on his own seat. Kaneda seemed to be suffering the worst of it though, being thrown left and right as the bus charged down the streets.

Saint Rudolph's private bus screeched to a halt - almost taking down three pedestrians and a streetlight on the way - in the parking lot closest to the tournament courts. The jarring stop sent most of the club face first into the seat in front of them, though a few members ended up in the aisle with small cries of pain and the reverberating screams of terror and occasional death threat. Their driver - an exuberant American man named Claude K. Winchester - pulled open the doors with a cheery "We're heeeere!"

"Yes," Mizuki finally spoke, murderous icicles hanging from every word, "We can see that. Thank you."

After that, it was a mad dash to get off the bus as quickly as was allowed when a group of 20-plus boys attempted to escape from a lethal trap which had only two narrow exits. Ryoma, lucky enough to be sitting near the emergency exit, was practically the first one out after Yuuta forced it open, the scarred boy close behind. Mizuki had cut his way through the throng near the front exit, stepping out as calmly as he pleased while glaring daggers at the grinning driver the entire time. Akazawa had been forced to help Kaneda escape, as the boy had been smashed practically into a wall as some of the other club members attempted to form a lynching mob with the sole purpose of maiming their bus driver. Yanagisawa just kept laughing and had been dragged out by Atsushi, who shadowed Mizuki's footsteps easily.

"We'll be taking the subway next time," Yuuta said bitterly, looking just a tad more traumatized than usual for a Sunday morning.

Atsushi was just glaring at gawking passers-by sullenly. "I would rather _walk back_ than be driven by that _madman _again."

Akazawa and Kaneda finally managed to make it off the bus, the latter sporting a few new bruises and scrapes but still grinning. "Shall we head to the courts now? The other members said they'd meet us there later."

"They're going to kill our driver and hide the body first," Akazawa intoned dryly.

Mizuki hummed. "Well, there _are _thirteen of them. If they burn the bus, the evidence will be hard to find."

"Why do our conversations always seem to center around attempted murder?" Atsushi mused aloud.

"You guys realize we're here for a _reason_, right?" Yuuta spoke up. When he was met with nothing but blank stares - save Ryoma, who looked to be attempting to sleep standing up - he twitched. "Tennis. We're here to play _tennis_."

Mizuki just chuckled. "Of course we are, Yuuta-kun! Don't be silly, we wouldn't forget that!"

Yuuta seriously doubted that.

* * *

Fukushi Michiru reflected that perhaps thinking a match with Saint Rudolph would be as easy as it was last year was a foolish mistake. For one, he should have remembered that a majority of the players that had made up the team of Regulars last year had been third years, and that the present tennis club had been completely revamped. The only faces he recognized within the mass of brown and white were those of their captain, Akazawa, and one of the juniors that had followed the tanned boy around last year like a lost puppy.

He'd heard about the third year with the head band, if only because his cousin in the Rokkaku tennis club had told him that the current manager of Saint Rudolph seduced him to their side. The duck-lipped youth currently hanging off of him was an unknown, though, along with the scarred junior handing one of the freshmen a can of fruit soda.

"Seems they've gotten smaller," Doumoto Gouki commented from his aside, lazy brown eyes trailing over the faces of their opponents. The Regulars of Saint Rudolph were gathered in the front row of the bleachers, seemingly conversing. "And that freshman...is he a Regular? He's wearing a jersey."

Itou Ayumu, Gouki's Doubles One partner for the day, snorted. "Guess they're desperate."

Whatever the Saint Rudolph tennis club was, Fukushi didn't really think 'desperate' was an accurate term. 'Chaotic' may have been a more apt description, if the fact that a majority of the members gathered around the Regulars seemed more intent on strangling each other than paying any attention to their competition. In fact, not one student of Saint Rudolph had even deigned to glance in Ginka's direction; Fukushi wasn't sure if he should be amused by their overconfidence or insulted by it.

"The match between Saint Rudolph Academy and Ginka Junior High School is about to begin! Teams, please assemble your players on the courts!" the official referee for the first round shouted from the tennis court.

Fukushi lead his group down to the courts swiftly, his teammates following behind him in an obedient line onto one side of the court before turning to properly face the net. Those of Saint Rudolph made their own way onto the courts, Akazawa leading them with the calm stride of a general, though his teammates just trailed after him in bickering clumps.

"Ryo-chan, you do not drink soda before a match! We obviously need to work on your dietary habits!"

"Don't touch my ponta, Mizuki-senpai."

"Look, you can have one after the match, okay?"

"Hn. Yuuta-senpai, you're buying it."

"Yes, yes..."

"Bow!" The referee called, effortlessly cutting through the minor argument and gaining their attention. Immediately, the Saint Rudolph regulars formed into a neat line and bowed politely to their opponents, each criticizing their Ginka counterpart, save the freshman - he just looked extremely bored.

_They probably put him in Singles 1_, Fukushi thought critically, _They'll want to finish this match quickly._

It wasn't a strategy Fukushi could find fault in; his own team was the same way. They had stocked up their strongest players in Doubles 1 and 2, and Singles 3 for along the same reasons. If what Fukushi observed was any indication, his own opponent would likely be the infamous manager - the boy kept shooting him predatory looks.

Filing off the courts, the referee made quick work in calling on to start the Doubles 2 match. Fukushi blinked in mild surprise when the wavy-haired manager and the clingy junior player from last year entered the court obediently.

"Doubles 2 match to begin! Saint Rudolph's Mizuki and Kaneda versus Ginka's Suzuki and Tashirou!"

Mizuki smirked, mouthing to his opponents across the court: "Six games to two."

The Doubles 2 match went too quick, in Fukushi's opinion. The first game had gone immediately to Ginka's pair but the second was solidly Saint Rudolph's. Suzuki and Tashirou managed to scrape a win in the third round, but after that it went nowhere but downhill. True to the manager's smug prediction from the very start, the Mizuki-Kaneda combination defeated the opponents with a solid win of six games to two.

Fukushi was just going to pass it off as luck, or as Suzuki and Tashirou underestimating their opponents and falling prey to the obvious mindgame. Gouki had assured him he wouldn't fall for the same trick, and even told the Rudolphian manager the same thing as he passed him on to the courts. Mizuki, however, had only chuckled and called back cheerfully: "Six games to one!"

The headband boy was good, Fukushi had known that. With his partner, though, the pair was damn near unbeatable; they obliterated the Ginka combination of Gouki and Itou with little preamble. Fukushi was still wondering if the game the Ginka pair had won first was nothing more than an observation on their skills, something the duck-lipped boy seemed to find interesting. Of course, after that first game he had seen fit to mocking them from the other side of the court.

Fukushi grimaced as their Doubles One combination fled back to their ranks, their opponent's laughing "Da ne!" still echoing. He stepped on to the courts before the referee had even asked; as it was, now Fukushi was just pissed off. He was going to tear into his opponent; the smug brown-and-white bastards deserved it.

"Saint Rudolph's Echizen versus Ginka's Fukushi match to begin!"

Fukushi glared into the bleachers, eyes immediately latching onto the scarred junior he didn't recognize from last year. He was momentarily startled when the freshman idled on to the courts, glancing over Fukushi boredly before glaring back at his teammates when they all made hasty exclamations of "Good luck!" and "Have fun!" and "Don't do anything _I_ wouldn't do - no, wait, I take that back. Don't do anything _Yuuta-kun_ wouldn't do!"

Mizuki smirked at him. "Six games to zero."

Fukushi thought he meant the freshman didn't stand a chance; a filler, merely a player to bide their time so that Akazawa could claim victory in Singles Two.

Naturally, Fukushi hadn't seen it coming.

His opponent's attention wasn't really on him, Fukushi had registered at first. The boy's eyes were on the ball, of course, but his mind was elsewhere; he could tell when his lips twitched downward every now and then, or as the speed of the balls he served went faster with each hit. He wondered who exactly the boy was seeing on the other side of the net.

The first serve had went to Ginka, so Echizen's answering shot was swift and true - scoring the first point with a slice that had been too fast for Fukushi to counter. The unexpected had forced Ginka's captain to sober up quickly - the idea that the freshman was a legitimate regular and not a fill-in was starting to become obvious.

Fukushi struck his serve and immediately went to attention, managing to hit Echizen's counter shot back before it could go past him again. He couldn't shake the feeling something was different about this rally, especially with the freshman's eyes gazing at him intensely. There was something - _unnatural _about the way the boy was playing. Echizen seemed to effortlessly reach every countershot Fukushi made but as the rally progressed, Fukushi could feel the pressure building on him.

A backhand strike scored another point for the younger boy. Fukushi forcibly turned his eyes away from the freshman, moving back into position for another serve. He blinked the dryness from his eyes, surprised at himself; why was he feeling so pressured? Even if the other boy was a decent player, it was still only the first game and anything could happen from this point on. So why did every strike feel like the stress of a match point?

"Fukushi-kun!"

The referee's annoyed snap brought the senior from his ruminations. Across the court, Echizen cocked his head thoughtfully, a small smirk playing at his lips. He didn't even have to speak - the smugness practically radiated from that minor gesture. Scowling, Fukushi drew himself into his trademark move: a kick serve. His grip, strength, and speed combined enough to give the ball an unpredictable edge as he served it.

Sure enough, the service ball hit the point just to the left of Echizen, spinning briefly before pelting right towards the boy's face. Echizen dodged, losing his cap in the process, golden eyes watching the ball progress past him with calculating eyes.

"30-15!"

Fukushi relaxed slightly. _See?_ he inwardly chastised himself. _There was no need to worry. This match is just getting started._

He looked across the court, momentarily freezing when he met lit golden eyes. Without the hat, Echizen's eyes were practically glowing from beneath the fringe of his hair. They were seeing Fukushi in a way that was almost predatory, that same galling smirk from earlier back on the boy's lips. Fukushi could practically hear the freshman's derisive laughter in his ears.

_Settle down!_ he thought furiously. _By letting him get to you, you've already lost!_

Fukushi wasn't captain without reason; his level head and ability to think clearly under stress had made him reliable, and he shouldered the responsibility of being Ginka's tennis club captain easily. He wasn't madly in love with the sport, as many others in the junior high circuit seemed to be; he'd never played in a non-school tournament or went to any special tennis camps. He'd merely joined the club as a freshman out of boredom, found it was a good way to let out stress from exams, and he liked the people in the club well enough. If he won a match, all the better; if he lost a match, oh well - there's always a next time. Fukushi prided himself on being a forward thinker.

Which was why, after giving another kick serve, he couldn't understand why he couldn't even move when Echizen countered it faster than he could strike back. He had to pull himself back together, one hand gripping a tennis ball as he prepared another kick serve. This one was easily returned as well, grazing his cheek by millimeters and striking the fence behind him with untold strength.

"Game to Echizen! Switch courts!"

The referee's voice suddenly seemed very far away. Fukushi's feet moved by themselves, his mind subconsciously forcing him to the other side of the net, as far away from the freshman the tennis court allowed. He took position, his arms thankfully still and firm, his eyes on Echizen's form as the boy readied his serve.

A beat later, Fukushi heard the rattle of the fence behind him as the tennis ball met it. In his mind, the only thing replaying was the Twist Serve the other boy had gracefully carried through.

* * *

"Four games to love! Switch courts!"

Kaneda stared. He couldn't help it; he'd be full-out gawking if possible, but the one time his motuh almost slipped open to gape in disbelief, Mizuki had hit him in the back of the head with his clipboard with a small admonishment. As it was now, Mizuki was dutifully noting down god-knows-what on that very clipboard, and Kaneda couldn't figure out how the other boy seemed so unfazed by the pure _insanity _going on right in front of them.

"Unbelievable," Atsushi muttered, eyes also locked on the match before them. "He hasn't managed to win a single game. He only scored one point this entire time..."

"That was only because Ryo-chan was testing him," Mizuki countered airily, waving the observation off. "Our little baby likes to see his opponent's strength before he crushes them. I think he's doing it subconsciously, but in truth, it has quite the devastating effect on the psyche." The manager glanced up in time to catch the freshman score another point with an overhead smash.

Akazawa was frowning, but that expression had been on his face the moment Echizne had entered the court to begin his match. Yanagisawa had preoccupied himself with a loose thread in his jersey, clearly intent on missing the entire match while sitting right in front of it. Yuuta's eyes were glued to the freshman, not even straying as the ball leapt to the other side of the court.

"...What's wrong with him?"

Atsushi's comment grabbed Kaneda's eyes, and the junior blinked confused up at the senior.

"What?" he muttered dazedly, mind still reeling.

"Five games to love! Switch court!"

Atsushi eyes were on the courts, but unlike Yuuta, his eyes were on the Ginka Regular facing off against their freshman.

"Fukushi," Atsushi stated. "Look at him. He's acting weird."

Kaneda turned his eyes to the captain of Ginka, not seeing what had caught his teammate's attention at first. When Echizen served another Twist Serve, though, his eyes widened in understanding - Fukushi had _flinched_.

Not one of those minor twitches that often afflicted those new to the sport; beginners had a habit of flinching away from a served ball, scared of getting hit. It was common enough and always trained out with time and practice.

Fukushi's flinch, however, was a full-body movement; a violent backstep that had him almost on the opposite side of the court from where the Twist Serve had launched towards. Some members of the Ginka tennis club were yelling at the sidelines, demanding that Fukushi pull it together, but it was as if their captain couldn't even hear them. His eyes were on Echizen the entire time, unseeing and mildly horrified.

"Ryo-chan plays a very cruel game of tennis," Mizuki said idly.

He had set his clipboard down, looking at it in remorse._ No point_, he thought mournfully, _Fukushi isn't strong enough to test Echizen's real strength. The boy has just been playing around with him this entire time._

"How?" The question, surprisingly, came from Akazawa.

Mizuki glanced at the somber boy before turning his eyes back to the clearly one-sided match. It was pitiful, really; Fukushi was skittering around the court now, looking torn between trying to hit back the ball or running from it. Every time the senior managed a strike back - usually after Echizen purposely hit such easy shots - the freshman would counter with a strike that had enough speed and strength that it reawakened the fear in Fukushi's eyes.

"Ryo-chan doesn't aim to physically hurt," Mizuki began, fingers laced together and allowing his chin to rest on top. "He doesn't need to. It's all psychological."

"I don't understand..." Kaneda whimpered, perplexed.

Mizuki chuckled mirthlessly. "When you play an opponent, a connection is formed then. You may not realize it, but it's there; how they react to this serve, how you react to their counter, how they're feeling, how tired you are - all of this is noted, silently exchanged between the two of you. You watch each other, looking for weaknesses, trying to avoid each other's strengths."

Mizuki's eyes followed the trail of the ball as it scored another point for Saint Rudolph. "Ryo-chan's games are no different. He forms a connection with his opponents, but it's one-sided." Mizuki tilted his head thoughtfully. "Ryo-chan, he doesn't care about his opponent. He doesn't really see who is on the other side of the court, he doesn't care how they react to anything he does, because he's strong enough to overpower them anyway."

"Wouldn't that be his disadvantage, then?" Atsushi asked.

Mizuki shook his head. "His indifference makes him extremely difficult to read. Look at him right now - does he look tired to you?" Echizen's speed hadn't dropped at all during the match; he seemed almost in perpetual motion. "Is he reacting differently to anything Fukushi strikes back?" The freshman easily returned every shot, not even looking challenged. "Does he look like he's enjoying himself?" The smirk was there, a near-constant for the entire match. His eyes, however, were cold; he barely acknowledged Fukushi's existence, inwardly scoffed at his plays, bemused at the fleeting responses of the failing senior.

"You don't encounter players like Ryo-chan very often, if at all," Mizuki mused absently.

"What about that junior in Rikkaidai?" Atsushi pointed out. "Kirihara. His tennis style is supposed to be extremely violent. Isn't that similar?"

"Not at all," Mizuki returned instantly. "Kirihara is violent and ambitious, and it shows in his tennis style - that's all. Ryo-chan is very different."

The senior smiled sharkily, something dark shining in his eyes.

"Ryo-chan _hates _tennis so much, he's actually using it to _destroy _other players."

"Six games to love! Game and match, winner is Saint Rudolph's Echizen!"

Fukushi crumpled to the ground.

On the other side of the net, Ryoma smirked haughtily: "Mada mada dane."

* * *

**A/N**: Purposely vague explanation! _Yaay_! (I had an inner fangirl moment for Mizuki's exposition, though. XD) More details will filter through as the story progresses, so if Ryoma's tennis skills don't make sense to you, don't worry about it. 8D All in good time, my darling readers.

About his tennis style, though: I'm playing it PoT-style rather than real world-style. Let's face it - if Yukimura can seal off people's senses via tennis, _anything is possible in a tennis match now_. XD Did I mention **Creative License**? 'Cause I totally own that.

-For those of you who will inevitably wonder: Claude K. Winchester is K from _Gravitation_.

Drop a review and you will be adored. It's always good to know what readers think of the progression of the story!


	6. A Dawn, Waiting

**A/N**: Hyoutei. _Hyoutei_. Good God, I just **_love_** Atobe!_ Finally!_ XD

**Disclaimer**: I do not own.

**Pairings**: Mizuki + XD

**Warnings**: Mizuki. Gender confusion...? Strange implications. (Freakin' Mira and his freakin' incest...)

* * *

**Chapter 6**

* * *

**"Hope begins in the dark,**

**the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try doing the right thing,**

**the dawn will come.**

**You wait and watch and work:**

**You don't give up."**

_-Anne Lamott_

* * *

The first time Yuuta came across tennis, he was seven years old and walking home from school with a few of his friends. A pair of high school boys were playing a game rather intensely, pulling in the gazes of passers-by as the ball shot from one side of the net to the other. Yuuta was no exception, and within moments, he felt entranced by the sheer amount of willpower the two seemed to generate within their simple game.

Childish awe morphed into determination, which eventually lead to Yuuta bounding home, demanding from any family member in hearing range to get him a tennis racket - he had found his passion in life. Of course, once Yuuta developed an interest in something, his older brother was never far behind; Syuusuke had to make sure Yuuta was safe and secure in everything he did.

Yuuta had found a sport he loved. Syuusuke had found a sport he easily excelled in.

It had been nothing at first. His parents had enrolled both him and Syuusuke at a nearby tennis club that offered children's classes, and even though Syuusuke all but sailed through each lesson with the ease of a pro, Yuuta still enjoyed himself. Sure, he wasn't as quick as Syuusuke, not as talented, sometimes he held the racket wrong - but he was one of many. Each day he spent there was fun, each swing of the racket made easier by practice, each little match thrilling and cementing his love for the sport.

Yuuta could ignore the way the adults compared him to his brother, because in truth, he hadn't even heard them. Adults were separate, saw the world differently from him, and their opinions didn't really matter to Yuuta; all that mattered was the game and the excitement.

Yuuta hadn't even noticed the gap in skill between him and Syuusuke until much later. A senpai in the lessons had been paired up with him for a match; Yuuta lost horribly, of course, as the boy was at least five years older than him and had probably been practicing tennis for well over Yuuta's measly one-and-a-half years.

"You're Fuji's little brother?" the boy had asked, looking agog. "You're way too weak!"

Yuuta hadn't understood until he went to see one of Syuusuke's matches. He watched as his older brother surpassed senpai after senpai, how he defeated people with double the amount of experience he had with nothing but a careless smile.

Yuuta loved tennis, but only Syuusuke had the talent for it.

Yuuta knew that now. If he ever wanted to truly love tennis again, love it for what it was as he had back when he was too young to recognize the competition, he knew he had to defeat his brother first. He had to prove to himself and others that pure, cold hard work could defeat latent skill. He had to overcome this loathing he felt for himself every time he made a slice that wasn't as fast as Syuusuke's, every serve that wasn't as clever, every point earned that wasn't as effortless. Syuusuke's shadow haunted him where ever he went, and more than anything, Yuuta wanted to be rid of it.

This experience is probably what allowed him his own kind of perception. Only someone who has lived in the shadows of another for as long as Yuuta had could recognize someone suffering under the same weight. It was obvious to Yuuta, at the very least, that Echizen Ryoma was suffocating under a shadow that only he could feel.

_Saint Rudolph is strange in that wa_y, Yuuta mused, eyes staring up unseeingly at his dorm room's ceiling. _ It seems to take in all those who have something to prove but nowhere left to run._ The room was relatively quiet save for the casual scratching of pencil on paper as his roommate settled in for some intense studying.

"Hey, Mikoto?" Yuuta spoke out, sitting up in his own bed. His roommate paused in whatever calculations he was muttering off, turning around to give Yuuta a questioning look.

"If you hated something - I mean, hated something so much that it actually hurt to be near it - would you still stick with it?" Yuuta asked.

Mikoto stared at him thoughtfully. "...Is that even possible? Why would someone stay with something they hated that much?" he replied, his brows furrowed. "Do you know someone like that?"

Yuuta shook his head, flopping back down with a gusty sigh. "Nah, I...I was just wondering. I was trying to see what being philosophical was like."

Mikoto snorted, turning back around to his math notes. Silence elapsed within the room, and Yuuta tried not to think of anything at all. He hadn't felt like training ever since the match against Ginka a week ago. The club practice this week had been an awkward experience for all the Regulars except Echizen and Mizuki; it was hard seeing the freshman and trying not to think of Ginka's shattered captain.

"You know," Mikoto started suddenly, though he didn't turn around. "About hatred. I heard it's something like a misguided love. I mean, to hate something so absolutely it chokes you - don't you think someone would have to love something just as much to be capable of that sort of hate?"

Yuuta blinked, before slowly, a smile broke out on his face.

"Either way, though," Mikoto mused. "It sounds painful."

Yuuta closed his eyes. "Yeah. It must be."

* * *

"You're scared of him."

It sounded a lot more accusatory than Atsushi had intended, but he was never one for subtlety anyway. Manipulation was more Mizuki's gambit and Atsushi had no desire to ever emulate the manager.

Yanagisawa didn't flinch nor did he pause as he pulled on his uniform, his back to his roommate and doubles partner. Atsushi had to resist the urge to throw his Math textbook at his friend, since the last time he had done that he'd woken up with that damn duck plush in his face, half-smothered.

"Is he that frightening?" No reply. "Shinya."

Yanagisawa straightened his tie but didn't bother tucking in his uniform shirt; he never really was the model student. He half-turned to regard Atsushi with an all-encompassing stare, as if to judge him worthy of an answer. Atsushi glared at him mutinously from where he was perched on his own bed, looking like a catalog version student of the school.

"Atsushi," Yanagisawa began, drawling the name in a way he knew his friend hated, "I can still play tennis, can't I?"

He grabbed his bookbag as he moved to the door.

"Mizuki stopped the game."

Yanagisawa stopped.

"If he hadn't stopped it...could you still play?" Atsushi continued.

Yanagisawa didn't turn around, but only a moment later he burst out laughing. He leaned on the doorframe as his body shook from his guffaws, and he turned around to leer at the other boy, absently wiping the tears from eyes.

"You are getting so hung up on 'what if, what if', aren't you? You shouldn't think of those things, da ne!" Yanagisawa chuckled, moving back over to the youth to noogie his head. Atsushi batted him away with a growl but Yanagisawa kept smiling.

"You have to decide for yourself, Atsushi," he finally said, stepping back. Atsushi's eyes zeroed in on him in incomprehension. "What you want to think about Ryoma-kun. You either accept him as much as you're able to, or you avoid him. I just chose not to think about what could have happened, just what may happen if we have him, da ne."

Yanagisawa turned back around, moving to step outside the door. He paused on the door handle, glancing over his shoulder to give his partner a small smile.

"But if Mizuki hadn't stopped us...no, Atsushi. I don't think I could still play." Then he was gone.

Atsushi stared at the empty doorway, then turned to the other side of the room where their tennis gear lay propped together near the wall.

_I never believed I would ever think this_, Atsushi thought numbly. _But thank God for Mizuki._

* * *

"Ryoma-kun hates tennis," Kaneda mumbled to himself, stocking the bookshelves absently. Library duty had proven to be a great way to think things through and he often chose such a task after a tennis match. He would usually use this time for thinking over his last match and how he could improve, but after last week's match, he found his mind preoccupied with other thoughts.

"Ryoma-kun hates tennis," Kaneda reiterated under his breath, "But he plays it."

_"Ryo-chan hates tennis so much, he's actually using it to **destroy** other players."_

Kaneda didn't know what to think about that. Why would Ryoma try to hurt others because of tennis? What exactly was the boy trying to prove? When Kaneda didn't like something, he usually tried to avoid it at all costs; what was the point in hurting himself over something he never liked in the first place?

As a hardcore otaku, Kaneda had spent a lot of his time in elementary school getting picked on by many of his classmates. It didn't help that the only sport he was ever any good in was tennis; he couldn't play tennis every gym lesson, after all. Part of the reason he chose Saint Rudolph was to escape his neighborhood bullies, and ever since entering, he'd never been picked on. Most - if not all - of his peers at Saint Rudolph had their own issues and weren't so keen on bullying others as they were in pursuing their own agendas.

_I hate bullies_, Kaneda thought definitively, trying to follow Ryoma's train of thought. _So if I hate bullies, then I...become a bully? And bully other bullies?_

Kaneda's head hurt.

"That doesn't make any sense," he muttered to himself. "Wouldn't that just make their bullying worse?"

_If I bullied someone else, wouldn't they just be scared of me? Unless..._

The books cascaded out of his hands as the idea dawned on him. The thought would never have occurred to him before, because it took a certain amount of strength and willpower to pursuit it. A certain willingness and a _crippling_ amount of hatred.

_He's trying to teach us a lesson._

"Ryoma-kun hates tennis," Kaneda murmured knowingly. "So he's trying...to get us to hate it too. He's trying to show us why he hates it."

Kaneda knew he wasn't strong enough. Whatever message Ryoma was trying to tell them through his tennis, Kaneda wasn't strong enough to find it. He didn't have the skill to rival the freshman, nor the willpower to persevere through the onslaught in finding it.

_It won't be me that helps him_, Kaneda realized, accepted, and believed. _For now, though...I'll do what I can. What little I can.._.

* * *

Every weekend, the students of Saint Rudolph were allowed free reign of their time and often escaped into the city for some well-deserved respite.

"Ryoma-kun, Ryoma-kun! Sit by me!" Mira piped up from his claimed window seat, practically vibrating in place. "I'll show you these pictures of my papa!"

Well, a respite from their teachers, at any rate.

"Munakata," Yuy-sensei intoned from the front, Prussian blue eyes practically gleaming underneath his dark fringe. "Be quiet as per bus regulations, _or else_."

...For the most part.

Ryoma was practically pulled down next to Mira, wary golden eyes on their homeroom teacher who sat near the bus driver. It wasn't the same man who drove them to the tournament, but it _was_ another blond foreigner by the name of Merquise. He was driving much safer than the last one, but that may have been because Yuy-sensei was practically breathing down his neck with a homicidal look on his face.

As freshmen, Ryoma and his peers weren't allowed into the city unsupervised. For their first semester, they would always be escorted by their homeroom teachers, while for the second and third semesters they are escorted by their senpai. (It was only when they entered their junior and senior years were they allowed to go freely.) Their homeroom teacher would keep a headcount and they were required to plan their trip before they leave to avoid hassle.

Ryoma first thought it was overkill but then realized the necessity; the idea that Mira would be allowed to skip freely into town unsupervised was truly a nightmare to behold. At their first stop - the Funtomhive Toy Store - Mira seemed to be some kind of magnet for strange, depraved men. Yuy-sensei had already beaten three men into submission for inappropriate propositions.

_So that's the future criminal_, Ryoma thought absently as Mira practically shoved the picture of a handsome blond man into his face. _I am never going over to his house..._

"Kamiya Electrics is our next stop, everyone!" Winner-sensei, the homeroom teacher of Class 1-D, called from the front cheerfully. Ryoma's homeroom class and Class 1-D shared this particular bus, which was how Ryoma was put in Mira's tender mercies. Yosuke - the traitorous bastard - had chosen Souji as his seatmate for the trip and only gave Ryoma the occasional victorious smirk in response to the tennis star's smoldering glare. "Please remember your seat partner will be your partner while we're outside of the bus! You have one hour to shop, and then you are to reconvene in front of the store! Don't wander off alone and never leave the area!"

Since the man gave the same damn explanation at the first stop, Ryoma wasn't too keen on listening in a second time. Of course, no one dared to speak during the exposition; Yuy-sensei was scary enough as back-up, but Winner-sensei had been known to reduce _other staff members_ to tears if he was ever riled. Ryoma's sense of self-preservation had skyrocketed to astronomical proportions by this time so he knew to keep his mouth shut.

The bus came to a stop in front of their destination and Ryoma was dragged off by Mira at whirlwind speed. It took all of fifteen minutes for Mira to locate, squeal over, and purchase the movie he had been wanting ("See, Ryoma-kun? Papa plays the handsome and mysterious stranger in this one!"), so ten minutes later, Ryoma wandered outside, his partner at his heels.

Ryoma wasn't rebellious, nor did he have any inclinations to ignore the rules, but in his defense: he was bored, and Akazawa and Mizuki didn't let him play in any practice tennis matches last week. So when he spotted the public tennis courts across the street, he didn't see any harm in wandering over just to scope it out. He didn't have any tennis gear on him so it wasn't like he could play; he'd just go over to watch a match or something, then go back to the bus once time ran out. It was right across the street, in any case; it wasn't like he went into the next block or anything.

"Ryoma-kun~!"

Damn, he'd forgotten about Mira.

"We can't go over there, Ryoma-kun!" Mira pouted, clinging to the boy's arm. "We have to stay by the store! The teachers will get mad if we wander off!"

Ryoma absently shook him off. "It's not far," he grunted, already moving towards the courts. "You don't have to come. I'll be back before the teachers notice."

Mira abruptly went into his patented Teary-eyed Pouty look, but Ryoma ignored it and continued on. "I can't let you go alone!" Mira exclaimed, latching back onto his arm. "We're partners! We have to be together all the time!"

Cue the strange looks from passers-by.

"You don't have to say it like that," Ryoma muttered, reluctantly pulling the other boy along.

The tennis courts were mildly populated though only a few matches were actually going on. Ryoma wandered from court to court, trying to find something interesting to watch, but only beginners seemed to populate these courts; a bit disappointing but better than nothing. He pulled Mira over to the vending machines, buying himself a grape ponta. Mizuki had gone berserk on his eating habits recently, banning soda from his dietary menu and practically shoving milk down his throat.

Mira chose strawberry milk, of course, chirping on about his movie as they moved to an empty court where it looked like a match was going to start. Ryoma proved to be a bad judge of scenarios; it looked like fists were going to fly rather than tennis balls.

"I said I don't want to!" the only girl present snapped, glaring at her pursuer with something akin to murder in her eyes. Ryoma couldn't fault her less-than-subtle response; the guy interested in her was getting pretty handy.

"Such a cute girl as yourself," the man drawled, "Should be pleased to have gained ore-sama's attention."

_Was that a pick-up line?_ Ryoma wondered, taking a sip from his ponta. The girl seemed equally unimpressed, attempting to stomp away. She was quickly blocked by more guys dressed in the same uniform as the guy flirting (?) with her. Since the unanimous response had been carried through without a word, Ryoma felt rather impressed; they were really similar to Mizuki's damn fanclub.

"This looks really bad, Ryoma-kun..." Mira mumbled from right next to him, maintaining an impressive death grip on his arm. "Should we go get Yuy-sensei?"

Mira's attempt at whispering appeared to have failed as the leader of the pack turned his head to them with a raised eyebrow. He had looked annoyed at first - probably with the fact that the two had interrupted that rather volatile attempt at flirting - before he did a full-body pause. A calculative look came over his face before he abruptly pivoted and strode towards them.

"Well now," the boy started, a smirk coming over his lips as indigo eyes swept over the two, "What a welcome sight to see. Ore-sama..." his eyes finally settled on Mira, "Approves."

Ryoma's gaze turned flat. _It's a fucking magnet. I knew it._

Mira gazed up at the older boy with the look of the Oblivious.

Indigo eyes switched over to Ryoma with narcissistic superiority. It heavily reminded Ryoma of the looks Mizuki gave people like Sasabe or other tennis club members when they started complaining about the drills. He instinctively bristled up in response.

"Is this little brat your boyfriend?" the boy asked with a sniff. "You can do _much_ better."

Ryoma should have been offended, but it was hard to be hurt by the implied insult when he was trying to digest the fact that Mira was getting hit on by a guy who thought he was a girl - and that, apparently, _he_ was Mira's boyfriend.

"What?" Mira piped up questioningly, looking honestly confused. Ryoma gave him a sullen glare; he didn't have the _right_ to be confused. He was wearing a pink shirt, carrying around a romance movie, and he practically squealed over _everything_. He'd look more normal in a skirt than in the shorts he was currently sporting.

"Ore-sama approves of your sporty look," the boy absently complimented.

"_What_?" Mira asked again, somehow managing to look even more confused.

"Atobe," one of his lackeys drawled; the one with the glasses and Osakan accent. "Shouldn't you introduce yourself before you start adding more girls to your harem?"

"Of course!" the leader perked right up. "My apologies for being so rude, my lady! I am Atobe Keigo - the King of Hyoutei!"

Mira blinked up at him. "You're a king?"

Ryoma snorted, having recognized the name of one of the top-seeded schools. "More like the king of _monkeys_."

Eyes snapped over to him, ablaze. "Pardon?"

Ryoma stared straight back at him. "Going deaf, _Monkey King_?"

"Ryoma-kun!" Mira whispered furiously, tugging at his arm. "You're going to make him angry!"

"Too late," one of the Hyoutei boys in the back muttered, tugging at his cap. A silver-haired youth stepped forward, looking ready to calm Atobe down, but he was ignored as the narcissist glared down at Ryoma.

"You will regret those plebeian insults, _brat_," Atobe growled.

Ryoma smirked. "What are you going to do? Throw your bananas at me?"

"_Ryoma-kun!"_ Mira cried, aghast.

"You shouldn't keep company with such an uncouth ruffian," Atobe said, turning back to Mira with a gentleman's smile. "Would you like to accompany ore-sama for lunch?"

"This is unbelievable," the girl from before muttered, looking at Atobe crossly.

Ryoma was inclined to agree. "Mira, you're being asked out on a date," he said by way of explanation.

"_What_?" Mira screeched, pitch rising. "No-_wait_-I'm sorry! I can't! I'm-I'm _taken_!"

Atobe gave Ryoma a hard look. "A fragile lady such as yourself needs to be treated more delicately. Ore-sama is more than able to shower you in gentle affection; leave this brat and come with me."

The girl snorted, "_He's_ unbelievable. Where did he get that line from, a soap opera?"

"I'm not his boyfriend," Ryoma explained dryly.

"I belong to Papa!" Mira practically cried, tearing up.

One of the Hyoutei boys scoffed. "Look, Atobe, you're making the girl cry."

"Papa?" Atobe echoed in confusion. "Wait - 'his'?"

Ryoma fervently wished he could share that feeling. Checking his watch, he grimaced; they were already three minutes late. He gave the (real) girl a cursory glance; she seemed fiery-tempered so she could probably take care of herself. (Not that he really cared.) He dislodged Mira's grip on his arm to grab at the petite boy's wrist.

"We're late," he explained briskly. "We're going to have to run."

Mira didn't appear to have heard, blubbering as he was about his future marriage to his own father. Ryoma glanced back at the girl; she was obviously evaluating her options and possible escape routes in the midst of Atobe's confusion.

"_An-chaaan_!"

The girl turned at her name, eyes locking with a red-haired boy who was being followed by another boy with spiky black hair. She grinned and waved them over, looking relieved; Ryoma took the momentary distraction to sprint off, Mira in tow. Fortunately, Atobe and his posse didn't look inclined to follow them.

_Maybe he's not into the Daddy's Girl-types_? Ryoma wondered absently as he came to a stop in front of the store where the rest of his peers were gathered. Those nearest to him ceased their conversations in order to holler about their arrival, Winner-sensei and Yuy-sensei soon descending.

"We've been so worried!" Winner-sensei exclaimed, engulfing the two in a hug. "Where were you two?" Funny how the man could sound so congenial while his eyes took on a dangerous hue. Ryoma's survival instincts _screamed_.

"We're sorry," Ryoma instantly apologized, not sounding the least bit invested in it. "But these strange men kept bothering us and we went across the street to lose them. They kept trying to give us candy."

Mira - still a panicking, blubbering mess - merely sniffled.

Behind the teacher's backs, Yosuke mouthed the word 'liar!' at Ryoma but went otherwise ignored. Winner-sensei's grip on them tightened. "Is that so?" he asked, sounding half-suspicious, half-murderous.

Ryoma glanced back at the tennis courts. Whatever shock Atobe had suffered under, he had apparently shaken off. Ryoma had to forcefully hold onto his Innocently Stoic expression as he locked eyes with the diva.

"Ah," Ryoma said aloud, pointing to Atobe and his group. "There they are. Those were the guys, sensei."

Winner-sensei didn't have to say anything; Yuy-sensei advanced forward.

Fifteen minutes later, they were all gathered on the bus and on their way to their next destination. Yosuke, seated behind Ryoma and Mira, poked at the back of the tennis player's head.

"I'm telling your niisan-tachi that you subjected innocent bystanders to Yuy-sensei's wrath."

Ryoma smirked.

* * *

**A/N**: Is it weird that Ryoma ran into Hyoutei first rather than Seigaku? Oh well... You got a _glimpse_ of Momo, at least. And for those die-hard Atobe fans, I promise you I wasn't bashing him! (I -**heart**- Atobe!) It's just when we first met him (in the anime), he's hitting on An. Or threatening her, really; it was actually quite creepy...


	7. A Right, Astonished

**A/N**: You know how I said some chapters back that this story will deviate from canon timeline? Well, it starts this chapter. Why? Because if St. Rudolph goes against Seigaku already, that would start them on an epic losing streak...

**Warnings**: The deviation from canon timeline begins. Mizuki, _in many forms_. (He sounds more viral every chapter, doesn't he? XD)

**Pairings**: Hahahahahaha!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

* * *

**"Always do right.**

**This will gratify some people**

**and astonish the rest."**

_-Mark Twain_

* * *

_"How are things over there?"_

"Fine," Ryoma answered dully, staring straight ahead at the plaster without expression.

He had one finger curled in the wire connecting the phone handle to its cradle, the other holding the device to his ear. The room was empty, the door permanently left ajar as other dorm residents roamed the hallway. The small room was brightly lit but it held only one phone; it was the main form of free communication between dorm residents and their families, especially those who lived overseas.

_"Have you made any friends, Ryoma? You've always been so shy..."_

"Yeah, I have some," Ryoma answered again. He paused, thinking over what to say. He could make a pre-emptive statement - he already knew where she was heading with this conversation anyway - and the information would please her. "I made it into the Regulars over here. The other Regulars are nice and I hang around with them a lot."

No need to tell her it was by force. He left out his association with Mira and the others as well; they weren't tennis players, after all, and only tennis players would do.

_"Are the other Regulars strong?"_

Ryoma hesitated, hand gripping the phone tighter than necessary.

_What's the right answer, what's the right answer, what's the right answer-_

"Yeah, they're pretty strong," he said, voice calm. "But I can still beat them."

_"...Then they must not be that strong."_

Wrong answer.

_"You know you have to play with strong opponents, Ryoma."_

"...I know," Ryoma muttered softly.

_"You can't become strong if you have a weak foundation."_

"I know," he repeated.

_"Good. Are you playing in the tournament? Is there anyone strong there?"_

Ryoma thought of Ginka's captain - too weak and too slow and so full of himself. "Yeah, but I haven't gotten to play them yet. Mizuki-senpai said the next team we play has some National-level players, so-"

_"Make sure you play them, then!"_

Ryoma winced, going quiet.

_"I don't care what you have to do to get a spot, but you do it! Do you understand, Ryoma? You need to stop goofing around!"_

"...yes, mother..."

* * *

Routine settled back into the lives of the Saint Rudolph regulars. Following that rather upsetting match against Ginka, Mizuki made sure to choke down any rumors about the frightening talent Ryoma had displayed; tennis club members had been subtly threatened to keep their mouths shut about the freshman prodigy. With Ginka's defeat, that lead Saint Rudolph into their next match against a much more worthwhile opponent.

"Yamabuki Chuugakkou," Mizuki began imperially, sweeping dark eyes over the assembled regulars critically, "Will be far more entertaining than Ginka."

"Their doubles line-up is one of the best around," Akazawa translated effortlessly.

Mizuki nodded. "They also have a National-caliber Singles player, Sengoku Kiyosumi. I've recently learned they've acquired another Singles player of notable talent, one Akutsu Jin." Pulling out files from his backpack, Mizuki shuffled them around until he found what he was looking for.

"Sengoku relies more on his unusually strong brand of luck to win tennis matches, though he is hardly a mediocre player," Mizuki started. "Akutsu, however, displays a tennis style unique to his body type and monstrous ability."

The manager paused in consideration. "Off the courts, he's a hostile guy. Avoid any interaction with him."

Atsushi rolled his eyes in dismissal. "What are we going to do, cuddle him?"

Mizuki glared at the teen. "I mean it - avoid Akutsu off the court at all costs. He put one of his _own club members_ in the hospital."

Silence reigned for a moment, before Ryoma broke out by snorting, "Sounds scary, ne?"

The youngest boy flopped backwards onto the grass, looking ready to fall asleep. Mizuki merely gave him a cursory glance; the boy had been particularly bratty as of late and the manager was starting to feel like he had missed out on something very important.

"I doubt we'll have much interaction with him, anyway," Atsushi pointed out diplomatically. "We're a closed campus, and it's not like we get to go to tournaments unsupervised."

Ryoma perked up in interest. "We don't?"

"Gojyo-sensei was supposed to supervise us when we went against Ginka," Yuuta said. "He just got, uh, distracted, so you didn't get to see him, Ryoma-kun."

Yanagisawa giggled. "Yeah, distracted by the _ladies_."

"In any case, Hakkai-sensei is supervising us when we go against Yamabuki, so you'll see what we mean," Akazawa interjected before the duck-lipped youth could further corrupt Ryoma.

Kaneda smiled brightly. "Hakkai-sensei is actually your roommate's cousin, I think, Ryoma-kun; he's very mature. What does he teach again...?"

"Chinese literature," Mizuki answered with the pompus air of the all-knowing. "And the warning was just a precaution. If any of you get injured, it greatly affects our chances of success..."

"Your concern for our personal well-being is very touching," Atsushi said dryly.

Mizuki smirked at him. "Don't fret, Atsushi-kun; rest assured, I care_ very much _about your _personal well-being_."

"It's amazing how you can paraphrase something and still turn it into a sexual innuendo, da ne," Yanagisawa mused.

Yuuta rolled his eyes, standing up and pulling up Ryoma for good measure. "I think that's our cue to leave. I promised to help Ryoma-kun with his Japanese Literature homework."

The fussing third years waved them off, now deep into a debate over sexual harassment. Kaneda bid them farewell with a warm smile, pulling out a _Shonen Jump_ mag to read as he absently listened in on the argument.

Half dragging the freshman off, Ryoma allowed himself to be pulled along as he surveyed the older boy with critical eyes. "I don't remember asking for help with my homework, Yuuta-senpai."

Yuuta smiled at him over his shoulder. "Do you really want to stay there as they talk about Mizuki's long list of harassments?"

"...Good point."

Yuuta laughed softly.

Releasing the boy, the two entered the hallways of the school. Most of the classrooms were empty, as classes had ended half-an-hour previous and those who weren't involved in club activites had either returned home or to the dorms. This was another off-day for the tennis club, though supposedly the Regulars were to reconvene after dinner for a light drill involving the mannequin and some multi-colored tennis balls. (Ryoma was faintly worried by the demonic smile Mizuki had shown when telling them this.)

"Do you want to see what the other clubs are up to, Ryoma-kun?" Yuuta asked, breaking Ryoma from his train of thought. "I heard the AV club was working on a movie-project."

Ryoma gave him a wary look. "What does 'AV' stand for?"

Yuuta glanced at the younger boy, but on seeing the sincere confusion in his face, answered with a small smile. "_Audio-visual_. The AV club is usually focused on things like movie production, computer graphics, things like that."

Ryoma seemed to relax. It was relieving to know that one of his friends wasn't involved in the porn business, after all, and it made it seem more innocent when Yosuke repeatedly asked him to star in a film. Yuuta forcibly choked back a laugh; Ryoma wouldn't take it too kindly if he were to be laughed at for his ignorance.

The AV club was nested in one of the computer labs on the second floor and the two entered without much preamble. The club president, third-year Kasshu Domon, was a rather surly teen but he allowed the two to look around. Like Yuuta had said, the club looked to be focusing on movie projects.

"We're having a competition," one member explained, fiddling with a movie camera. "Everyone chooses a topic and makes a film about it. The one who has the best content - as voted - wins a prize. Domon-kun hasn't said what the prize is but most of us don't really care. We just want to show off."

Ryoma's attention was drawn to one of the computers another member was working on. The boy had apparently chosen food as a topic, if the countless videos of everything from cheeseburgers to sashimi to some weird type of beef-dish was any indication.

"Ignore Saishi-kun's video topic, he's a gluttonous idiot."

"Shut up, Sando-senpai! At least I'm not doing a movie about fucking _roses_!"

The two degenerated into an argument that Ryoma couldn't care less about. Yuuta pulled him away from the pair, moving along to other members. The topics were never the same and the polarity was quite astonishing; they saw everything from arcades to traditional gardens to foreign cities.

When Yuuta was distracted by one member's topic of video games, Ryoma moved along to bother Yosuke. The boy was staring unhappily at his own film project, and Ryoma could see why; there were only a few clips gathered and the quality looked rather poor. Ryoma blinked in surprise at the topic.

"You're doing a video on tennis?"

He watched as a clip of last year's tennis tournament played out on the screen. Yosuke glanced up at him, startled briefly, before looking back at the screen with an intense expression. "Well, something like that. It's actually supposed to be about our school's tennis club but the videos from last year suck. I was going to ask for permission to videotape our current matches."

Ryoma gave him a weird look. "Why are you interested in _that_? Do you just want to videotape Mizuki-senpai or something?"

Yosuke blushed hotly, earning a snort. The AV member pouted at Ryoma, poking him in the sides. "Not just that! I'd like to get videos of Mizuki-senpai, of course - but that's not the only reason!" he interjected as Ryoma started to pull faces at him.

"Why else would you? I didn't think you were that interested in tennis," Ryoma said in disbelief.

Yosuke rolled his eyes like Ryoma was being deliberately dense. "Because _you're _in it, Ryoma-kun! I love taking videos of my friends! And since you're a Regular, I bet you look cool when you're playing the game, right?"

Ryoma just stared at him in incomprehension. "You want to do your project on that just because I play tennis?"

Yosuke just looked affronted at the other boy's tone. "Sure, why not? Chibodee-senpai chose video games before I could, and I think it'd be cool to see you in action. I didn't get to see your last match but I heard you beat the pants off of the other player!"

"He wasn't that strong," Ryoma muttered derisively, recalling the match in contempt.

Yosuke turned his eyes back to the computer screen. "That's because _you're _the strong one! I can't wait to see your next match," He flashed a grin at the other boy. "I bet you'll be _awesome_!"

At the compliment, Ryoma felt flattered - but at the same time, rather sick.

_"...Then they must not be that strong."_

Yes, he definitely felt ill. "You'll be disappointed."

Yosuke absently deleted the few clips he'd gathered. "I sincerely doubt that, Ryoma-kun."

* * *

_Self-practice again_, Ryoma thought spitefully, tapping his racket against his shoulder as he wandered around the eastern side of campus. Formally, the tennis club only convened once a week - on the day of the captain's choosing - and players were then left to their own devices for the rest of the week. In theory, this allowed them to join other clubs and expand their horizons. While the concept was admirable, it didn't really help Ryoma; if he had wanted to go into art, he would have stuck with a paintbrush, not a tennis racket.

_If I had wanted to practice by myself so much, I would have joined a school that didn't have a tennis club_, he grouched. Just minutes ago he had been training rather angrilly against a wall, but there was only so much time he could spend rallying against a slab of concrete before he got bored by it. He obviously needed to start developing self-training techniques if he wanted to grow as a tennis player, as all of his clubmates refused to play a match against him.

"Cowards," Ryoma muttered under his breath.

It wasn't that strange, if Ryoma were to be perfectly honest with himself. Even back in America, he had to switch to a different public tennis court every other week - as the more time he frequented one, the less other players would want to go against him. It made him feel slightly better, knowing he could scare people twice his age into submission at his skills, but it hardly helped in honing his current abilites. He'd entered tournaments just so he could have something to weigh his current abilites against, for all the good that did him.

Even in the current tournament, he had to be patient and even allow the chance that he wouldn't be playing; if opposing teams never got past Singles 3, or if he was put in as the reserve player, Ryoma was sure he'd throw a fit. He needed to play, goddammit - how else could he become stronger? The stronger the opponent he defeats, the stronger he in turn will become! It really wasn't that hard to follow; it was a lesson his mother had engraved into him well.

Ryoma scowled to himself, kicking at the wall. It was a childish and petty thing to do, really, but it made him feel slightly better. The black scuff left on the white plaster earned his hard-eyed gaze for a moment before his eyes were pulled away by a low "Nfu fu fu!"

Ryoma rose an eyebrow at the purple-clad teen. _Does this guy ever wear the damn school uniform?_ "What do you want, Mizuki-senpai?"

Mizuki pouted at him. "Don't be so cold, Ryo-chan! Your Haji-niichan is just worried about you!"

Ryoma snorted, pivoting and already starting to walk away. "Go bother Yuuta-senpai or something. I'm busy."

Mizuki's low chuckles met this, but the sound of footsteps shadowing his own made the freshman's unease grow. He couldn't exactly place why the older boy made him feel so insecure; the perverse comments and blunt flirtations were nothing more than things Mizuki did for the reactions he would get, some twisted form of amusement for the senior; Ryoma had long realized this and was already growing used to it. It probably had something to do with his eyes; Ryoma felt like Mizuki had a way of seeing him that was far too invasive for his liking. Ryoma's secrets were his own and he'd never share them with anyone.

"That's too bad," Mizuki said slyly, tone delicate and unassuming. "I just came across a good training method for you."

Ryoma didn't stop walking, but he deigned to glance over his shoulder. "Does this involve the mannequin?"

"Do you want it to?" Mizuki returned with a leer.

Ryoma fought back the shudder at the sudden recollection of their last Regulars-only training session. Sometimes, Mizuki's ideas were just _sick_. "No."

Mizuki looked inappropriately pleased at his obvious trauma. "Then no, it doesn't. As manager, and with our club's rather unorthodox rules about club meetings, I make it a personal responsibility of mine to create training menus for each Regular. I just finished with Yuuta-kun's last week, so now we can begin on your's. You and I will have to _try out_ some different types of _practice _to see if we can find the one that _fits you_ _perfectly_."

"I'd rather just work with Yuuta-senpai, then," Ryoma answered, clearly disliking the idea of being alone with the older male.

"Too bad!" Mizuki practically sang, skipping forward to envelope the boy in a from-behind hug. "I already had it authorized by Yoshirou-kun and our coach! So you either have your training menu made, or you lose your Regulars spot!"

"Then why did you even start off like I had an option?" Ryoma growled, too irritated by being backed into a corner to note in surprise that they _had_ a coach.

"I like the trapped look on your face," Mizuki asnwered honestly, spinning the younger boy free and walking a few steps ahead of him. "Now, shall we get started?"

* * *

Their second-and-final District Preliminary match against Yamabuki felt as if it had come too quickly. Mizuki had given them the run down on their line-up order, their expected wins and losses, and the cursory sexual harassment before having them shoved into the school's private bus.

Initially, the tennis club members had been very reluctant to get in, traumatized from their last jaunt, but Mizuki had coolly informed them that they would have a new bus driver - the last one having been transferred into a management position for an up-and-coming band. Their new one was _another _blond foreigner (_Is it some sort of job requirement? _Ryoma wondered_)_ but he looked younger than the last two Ryoma had seen.

"Cavallone-san will see you to the tournament safely," Winner-sensei said brightly, ushering them inside the bus.

True to his word, the bus ride was less hazardous and less scream-filled, but the boys hardly felt safe; for reasons yet to be explained, the back of the bus had been inhabited by a few men dressed in dark suits and sunglasses.

"One day we'll have normal bus drivers," Atsushi wished futilely, filing off the bus in total obedience. No one had spoken during the ride, fearing the men in the back would pull out guns or something. "Ones that aren't psychopaths or involved in the Mafia."

"Dream on your own time, Atsushi-kun!" Mizuki said. "We have a match to prepare for!"

He was widely ignored.

"Yuuta-senpai, I want a ponta," Ryoma requested, looking up at the scarred boy. Yuuta nodded, already trailing over to the vending machines with all freshmen club members in tow.

"...duckling syndrome?" Atsushi mused, watching the progression.

Yanagisawa waved him off. "Let's just get to the court, da ne. They'll show up."

Admirably, Mizuki choked down his indignation. "Yuuta-kun! Our match starts in 20 minutes so you better be on the court in time!"

"Okay-!"

* * *

"Aaahhh!" Dan Taichi practically screamed, gaining the attention of the gathered Yamabuki regulars. Minami gave the freshman investigator a curious look, the boy's face a picture of terrified concern. "Where's Akutsu-senpai? He took off again!"

Sengoku laughed, ruffling the boy's hair and knocking his green headband off-kilter. "He's playing Singles Two, so he won't need to show up until later. Don't worry about him, Dan-kun."

"B-But...!"

Muromachi snorted. "He won't even be needed. We have a five-star Doubles line-up _and _Sengoku-senpai! Saint Rudolph isn't even that strong."

Dan pouted, flipping open his notebook. The papers were filled with messy scrawls, all data on other teams and their players. His notes on Saint Rudolph were mostly dependent on their team from last year, so the information was sadly lacking. He had tried his hardest to get new data but he couldn't get onto Saint Rudolph grounds and he'd missed their first match against Ginka; all he had were names, basic stats, and the scores from their first match.

"That was last year! They have _five _new players, and their newest Regular is a freshman that beat Ginka's captain with a score of 6-0!" Dan rattled off.

"Ginka isn't that strong, either," Muromachi dismissed.

"Senpai~!"

"Dan-kun," Banji interrupted benignly, "Why don't you grab yourself a soda? By the time you get back, the match will have started and you can collect more data on Saint Rudolph, if you like."

Dan pouted, looking close to tearing up, but he steeled himself and nodded. "If I run into Akutsu-senpai, I'll tell him to come to the courts!"

"No, wait-"

"Don't _tell _Aktusu, Dan, really-"

"There's no need! Just-"

Dan waved off the majority's concern, giving them all a bright smile as he skipped off, sliding his headband back into its proper place. He didn't understand why everyone was so subdued when Akutsu was around; he was so cool! Dan could hardly ever keep calm around the other male, as excited as he was.

The vending machines were populated only by a few wandering teenage girls and a small group of boys dressed in what Dan recognized to be Saint Rudolph's tennis club uniforms. The boys were mostly his age, save one that wore a jersey.

Dan perked up instantly. A Saint Rudolph regular! He couldn't believe his luck! He idled closer, trying not to look too obvious; he didn't know what any of the Saint Rudolph regulars looked like, but since the group seemed to be talking, he hoped one of them would say the boy's name so he'd have a name to put to the face.

"What the hell is a Black-and-Blue Mango Extreme?"

"Do you think we can break this?"

"Tohji, _don't_!"

"Stop messing with the machine or I'm not buying you drinks!" the Regular snapped, glaring the younger boys back into obedience. The seven freshmen stared back at their senpai with various looks ranging from bored to embarassed.

Yuuta sighed, putting in more coins and allowing Rokujou Miharu his pick. The freshman club member stared blankly at the machine before choosing a harmless can of mango juice, moving over to the side to allow the others to pick. Sawa Rakan chose chocolate milk, with Tohno Tohji choosing the same; Ryoma, as always, picked grape ponta and waited obediently at the side with a small thanks.

Yuuta looked over the last three, feeling rather exasperated. "How did you guys even _get _those uniforms?" he asked.

Yosuke just grinned at him, picking that mysterious Black-and-Blue Mango Extreme beverage. Mira actually did a little twirl - Yuuta had to bat away the sparkles that seemed to come out of nowhere at the action - before choosing strawberry milk. Souji shrugged at him, choosing vitamin water and adjusting his movie camera more comfortably on his shoulder.

"It helps us blend in," Yosuke said.

"This isn't the time to practice subterfuge," Yuuta pointed out dryly. "And it was Shindou, wasn't it?"

Unrepentant expressions all around.

"I understand why _you're _here, Yosuke-kun," Yuuta finally stated before turning to the other two. "But why are you two here? And why is Mira-kun wearing a skirt?"

"I'm the cameraman," Souji answered.

"I'm here to support all of you!" Mira exclaimed cheerfully.

"Mira's our appointed cheerleader," Yosuke explained.

Yuuta and Ryoma shared a deadpan look.

"Fuji-senpai, the match starts in five minutes," Rokujou chimed calmly.

Yuuta nodded in acknowledgement, leading the odd assortment away.

Dan grinned triumphantly at his find - so _that _was Fuji Yuuta!

* * *

"So," Yosuke began conversationally, keeping pace with Ryoma as they trailed after Yuuta. The older boy was currently acting as verbal mediator to a minor argument between two of the freshmen members - Rokujou and Tohno, with Sawa on the verge of tears - so only Souji and Mira clued in appropriately. "Do you always have effeminate guys follow you around during the tournament, or is today just special?"

Ryoma really wished he could have feigned ignorance, but there were just some skills you unwittingly developed when at Saint Rudolph. Besides a growing sense of self-preservation, the ability to tell when you were being followed had also made a rise in strength - and Ryoma was sure as hell going to blame it on Mizuki.

"If you ignore him, I bet he'll go away," Ryoma answered indifferently.

Souji snorted. "You _wish _he'd go away."

"Maybe he's an admirer!" Mira suggested cheerfully.

"An admirer with a clipboard who wears the school colors of Yamabuki," Yosuke pointed out. One could not accuse him of not doing his research. "He might be a spy."

Even _Ryoma _turned to stare at the boy in disbelief.

"_What_?" Yosuke demanded, offended. "It happens! I heard most of the seeded teams send out spies to worthwhile opponents to gauge their current abilites! We used to have it, too, but when the entire school got revamped a year ago, they set the closed-campus rule. We're like an impenetrable fortress now."

Ryoma cocked his head thoughtfully. "So no one can enter our school, but theoretically, we could enter their's?"

The idea held merit. Despite the eerily effective tennis menu Mizuki was creating for him, Ryoma still wanted to gauge his current abilities against worthwhile opponents. If he could go to a public tennis court, or better yet - a rival tennis club - perhaps he could play in a match before any of his damned senpai intervened.

Yosuke eyed him warily. "Something like that, except us freshmen. You know we're not allowed to leave campus unsupervised."

Ryoma smirked, tugging the brim of his cap down purely out of habit. "But if I brought a senpai with me...?"

It'd have to be someone not in the tennis club, of course. All members seemed aware of some unsaid 'Ryoma-can't-play-tennis-in-a-nontournament-match' rule, so even if he managed to get one to take him somewhere, he knew they'd stop him from playing. Perhaps he could ask Kubota; his roommate was a senior, and if he brought along his little boyfriend, he'd be suitably distracted from watching Ryoma's every move.

Yosuke shrugged. "I don't see a problem, then. You'd just have to get it authorized by Yuy-senpai."

"I don't mean to interrupt," Souji interjected softly. "But can someone _please _tell the Yamabuki boy to stop following us? I think I saw him taking pictures."

Ryoma, a lot more light-hearted than before thanks to developing plans, pivoted and went straight towards the tree the Yamabuki freshman had been ducking behind. The boy cried out a little at being found out but before he could get a chance to run, Ryoma leaned close with a devilish smile and _come-hither_ eyes - a trick he'd picked up from Mizuki.

"Keep following us," Ryoma said lowly, making sure to hold the freshman's gaze, "And _I'll show you a sport way more entertaining than tennis_."

It took a moment for the statement to sink in, get processed, and then have the blood rush up to the other boy's cheeks in a vibrant blush. Dan was left gaping at him, shocked still, so Ryoma took the time to revel in it before turning back to fall into step with the rest of the group.

"Where were you?" Yuuta asked, having successfully reconciled the freshmen.

Ryoma shrugged as the others shot him wondering looks, "Just making friends."

* * *

**A/N**: I decided to deviate from the canon timeline here, as it'd ruin all the fun if Saint Rudolph went against Seigaku this early. They will eventually, of course, but not after some other teams. I still need to work up some Prior Experience between Ryoma and Seigaku. What can I say? I'm a suspense-whore. XD

_On Ryoma_: Like any other person, he's influenced by those around him. Mizuki-influences are no exception. (Mwahaha!) And Yosuke's movie-man role? It is totally a plot point. A vital one, almost, but I won't hint anything further~ I'm just amazed I managed to seal up a plot hole with it. XP

_On Mizuki_: To be honest, I thought canon!Mizuki _was _a perv. That one time when he was cajoling Yuuta into training with him sounded like he was seducing him into sex. (Maybe it was just me? _Dammit_. XD) So now I've realized I made him this way, but honestly, I'm going to keep Mizuki's blatant pervertism. It makes me happy. If he was _subtle _about it, he would be Fuji. XD I'm just surprised I managed to finally get a handle on his character. I have almost everyone handled now, with the exception of Kaneda and Akazawa. The latter is slowly becoming easier for me, but Kaneda is being too damn difficult...

A last note: I've decided to include omakes, or "filler chapters." Like filler episodes, really; just humorous background shots. They will, of course, be centered on the Saint Rudolph regulars (either in general or a character specifically). I felt I needed to do this because as more of Ryoma's history comes to light, the more depressing the story will become; this will just make me feel better as I write it out. XD


	8. A State, Violent

**A/N**:Ah...this thing has been on hiatus forever, huh? XD

Had to rewatch the epsiodes of Ryoma versus Akutsu. Got distracted by all the sexy grunts Akutsu makes. _Goddamnit_.

**Warnings:** Harem-building commences...

**Pairings:** MizukixEverything That Breathes and Maybe Some That Don't (XD), AkutsuxViolence

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

* * *

**"It is by no means self-evident that **

**human beings are most real when most violently excited;**

**violent physical passions do not in themselves differentiate men from each other,**

**but rather tend to reduce them to the same state."**

_-Thomas Elliot_

* * *

"I really can't help but notice that your new friend seems a bit traumatized," Souji noted casually, walking alongside the freshman ace with the sort of unaffected air that seemed at odds with his statement. Ryoma, for his part, didn't look the least bit concerned with Souji's bland appraisal of his newly-established sadism or the pale-faced Yamabuki boy left in his wake.

"He'll get over it," Ryoma scoffed.

Which was all that was said on the matter, really. Apparently neither could be bothered with concern for long. Ryoma left Souji to set up his camera at the side of Saint Rudolph's assigned court, Yosuke chattering at light speed to his unconcerned cameraman while Ryoma, Mira, and the remaining freshmen followed Yuuta to where the other tennis club members were gathered.

"Ryo-chan, where's your jersey?" Mizuki demanded, already dressed in the standard attire for a match.

"I don't need to wear it at _all times_, do I?" Ryoma scoffed.

"Oh, I accidentally left it on the bus," Mira admitted shyly. "I was cold on the way over, so Ryoma-kun lent me his jersey. It's my fault he isn't wearing it! I'm sorry!"

"It's no problem - _don't cry_, Mira-kun, really, it's okay!" Atsushi and Kaneda were quick to comfort. Ryoma just rolled his eyes, taking a seat on the bleachers next to an aloof Akazawa. The captain was staring over at the other side of the courts, where the mesh of green and white that made up their opponents were congregating.

Ryoma noticed that, in terms of membership, it looked as if Saint Rudolph and Yamabuki were equal; there were never more than 20 on a team. Ryoma wondered if that was normal for Japanese tennis clubs - Ginka had nearly twice their number and he'd researched enough on the top tier of tennis clubs to know that they had an average of at least 50 members. (Hyoutei was currently leading with over 200 members.) He supposed it made sense; the lower the ranking of strength, the less club members the school would have. Saint Rudolph was still fairly new, so it wouldn't rake in all the good players so soon.

"They're good, right?" Ryoma asked. It was important they were.

Akazawa's eyes remained on their opponents across the court. Yamabuki was a good school, he knew; both in grades and in sports. They had a reputation and were highly-seeded. Saint Rudolph had taken a blow last year in terms of their seeded rank; it was one of many reasons the school had been revamped and why the tennis club had been practically wiped out then built from the ground up.

"You're in Singles Two, Ryoma-chan," Akazawa finally said, stifling his smirk at the younger boy's irritated twitch at the mention of his nickname. "Kaneda will lose in Singles Three - Mizuki has told us that. You'll be able play."

"Good," Ryoma snorted. "You guys never let me play during practice."

Akazawa went silent at the accusative tone of the younger boy's observation, knowing he could not properly explain to the boy the reason for the discrimination. 'You're frightening the others,' wasn't an adequate explanation, as far as Akazawa was concerned, but it was the least harmful reason as to why Ryoma had been restricted. Akazawa could not risk having one of the other Regulars quitting because they had faced the younger boy - as was the expected result after the freshman's match with Ginka's captain.

"The match is starting," Atsushi announced unnecessarily, earning the attention of the captain. The referee for the match called the Regulars of both teams on to the courts for the proper greetings only a moment later.

"The match between Saint Rudolph Academy and Yamabuki Middle School is about to begin!" the referee started, keeping a vigilant eye on both groups of Regulars. Both sides looked perfectly amiable, Sengoku Kiyosumi of Yamabuki going so far as to grin and wave at the freshman Regular of Saint Rudolph. (The boy's droll expression never wavered, but the referee didn't miss the narrow-eyed look the scarred junior to the freshman's side gave Yamabuki's star Singles player.) The only exception lay with the tall, lurching monster of a teen known as Akutsu Jin - who was glaring at everyone and looking seconds away from launching over the net and starting a fistfight with the duck-lipped teen across from him.

"Bow!" They all did, except for Akutsu.

As the Regulars left the courts so that the first game could begin, Sengoku glanced over his shoulder at the opposing team. "So that kid is the Miracle Freshman? He sure wasn't too friendly!"

Dan Taichi - who had returned to his teammates looking oddly flustered and more jittery than usual - was still gaping at the court. Coach Banda stared at the boy with a complacent expression, "Is something wrong, Dan-kun?"

"N-Nothing desu!"

Akutsu scowled and slouched away.

* * *

Kita Ichiuma and Nitobe Inakichi were not the strongest Doubles pair in Kantou, or even the strongest in Yamabuki - but they were still a force to be reckoned with. Mizuki had predicted a close call with the rival pair for him and Yuuta - winning seven to five. It was clear the other two were hellbent on fulfilling such a prophecy, currently in the lead with 4 to 3, but at the very least they were forcing Yuuta to his limits. The younger boy had set a mental boundary on himself shortly after entering Seigaku and subsequently falling short of everyone's expectations. Mizuki had noticed the mental block as soon as he'd seen the younger boy play a game - there was no doubt about it, Fuji Yuuta was suffering an inferiority complex that would cripple him.

Fortunately for Yuuta, he had Mizuki. As a Doubles pair, they were quite gifted; Mizuki knew the younger boy's style and quirks so well that he could predict how Yuuta could react, while Yuuta could rely on Mizuki to do whatever was necessary to attain their goal. Not the perfect doubles combination, by any stretch of the imagination - but they could work together and they could work together damn well.

Unfortunately for their opponents, they were also privy to one of the most disturbing on-court banters ever heard.

Such as, "Yuuta-kun, _hit as deep as you can_!"

Or, "Mizuki-san, th-this formation is...and the angle is a bit, uh, awkward..."

And, "Nfufu, they're pretty good at foreplay, but they don't have enough stamina for the _real fun_, ne, Yuuta-kun?"

"I don't feel comfortable answering that, Mizuki-san."

When the score tied itself at 5-5, Nitobe scowled. For some reason, he was also feeling slightly violated, but attributed that to the fact that the manager of the team and current opponent easily had one of the creepiest smirks he'd ever seen. Kita wasn't much better off, even though he was concentrating more on Yuuta.

"Do you think it's a skill unique to Mizuki?" Atsushi mused aloud.

"What, the ability to feel sexually harassed even when he's not talking or touching you?" Ryoma clarified, disgruntled. Clearly his time on the other end of Mizuki's attention had been a bitter one.

"We'll call it the 'Mizuki Effect', da ne," Yanagisawa labelled.

Ryoma snorted, "I think we should just call it mindrape."

"The 'Mizuki Effect' sounds a lot more elegant, though," Kaneda pointed out demurely. "And a lot less illegal..."

Akazawa smiled predatorily, "Maybe they'll feel so victimized they'll lose concentration?"

Which proved true: apparently the Kita-Nitobe pair was unaccustomed to such double-entendre and abuse of sexual innuendos that they were distracted by every nuanced suggestion Mizuki made. It also seemed to help that during the short break time, Mizuki thought towelling down Yuuta was entirely appropriate and not at all homoerotic - which most of the viewers could readily disagree with. The referee was conveniently looking elsewhere whilst everyone else was treated to the show.

"I can't play Doubles," Ryoma commented casually, as if he wasn't just providing an excuse to escape what was surely counted as sexual harassment - even among Doubles pairs.

"That's convenient for you, isn't it?" Atsushi replied dryly, inching closer to Yanagisawa as if to show they were clearly the best Doubles combination Saint Rudolph had to offer and should never, under any circumstances, be broken up. Kaneda, on the other hand, just looked reluctantly resigned to being a Doubles player.

"At least the Mizuki Effect is working, da ne!" Yanagisawa pointed out.

"The Mizuki Mindrape Effect. I won't be satisfied with the label until the 'mindrape' portion is acknowledged," Ryoma cut in.

Atsushi rolled his eyes. "We'll call it the 'MM Effect', then. Are you happy now?"

_And now I can never eat M&Ms again, _Ryoma thought derisively. His teammates took his silence as acceptance.

"Nfufufu! Are you done warming up, Yuuta-kun?" Mizuki asked his partner, giving the younger boy a leer as they switched courts. Nitobe and Kita noticeably averted their eyes as they stumbled to their side, much to the manager's amusement.

"I suppose it's time we show our _new moves_, ne?" Mizuki suggested, somehow still managing to make a tactical threat sound like a new form of sexual deviancy. His teammates almost felt they should applaud him.

Yuuta ignored the tone with the ease of long practice, "I think we should stop talking while on the courts, Mizuki-san. I can practically hear the sexual harassment charges being filed from here."

"You're so cute when you think a few pieces of paper will keep us apart~!" Mizuki chortled.

"I think I'm going to need a long, hot shower after this match," Nitobe muttered.

Regardless of his Doubles partner's questionable choice of phrasing, Yuuta knew an order when he heard one. The training menu designed for him had been rather rigorous, but it all paled in comparison to the new move Mizuki had been teaching him alongside it. Yuuta had only ever practiced the technique against a wall, and now it seemed Mizuki wanted to see how his mastery fared in an actual match.

Yuuta wasn't very comfortable with the position of his arm while performing this move, but it was a discomfort he could ignore in favor of getting stronger. To be able to face Syuusuke on equal footing, to win a match over his older brother - Yuuta would put up with anything to achieve his goal.

Yamabuki's service game, and Nitobe served; the ball soared across the net, going low - past Mizuki and into Yuuta's range. Racket held high, Yuuta swung it low, catching it center on the racket at a height equal to his waist, feet off the ground in a mid-jump. The ball was sent careening back, hitting the court and propelling upwards with such a force of violent topspin that Kita was unable to catch it.

Twist Spin Shot.

"15-love!" the referee called out.

Again.

"30-love!"

Nitobe and Kita shared an agonized look.

"Is that his new technique?" Atsushi mused, leaning over the railing as if trying to afford a better view. "That thing has quite the spin."

"It looks like a drive half-volley," Kaneda noted.

Ryoma's eyes narrowed.

* * *

"Akutsu-senpaaaai!"

Akutsu didn't even bother to turn around, instead glaring straight ahead as light but quick footsteps came closer and closer. Dan reached his side soon enough, overlarge green headband half-slipping to cover an eye and clutching a clipboard to his chest. "Akutsu-senpai! You aren't going to watch the match (desu)?"

Akutsu didn't bother replying, just continued walking into a more deserted area of the park. He needed a smoke, and according to that stupid old man Banji, he still had quite a bit of time. Akutsu had wanted to ditch the match altogether, really, but he'd been challenged and Akutsu Jin wasn't the type to shirk away from any challenge.

Dan followed at his heels, chattering incessantly. Akutsu didn't know what possessed him the day he had tossed that old headband at the boy - which led the little idiot into hero-worshipping him. The kid was annoying, but ignorable most of the time; he was kind of like a yipping puppy that Akutsu only occasionally had to pet to keep in line.

"Ne, Akutsu-senpai," Dan began nervously, once Akutsu had reached a favorable enough place to stop and light up a cig. "If someone, um, approaches you and offers to, uh, show you '_entertaining moves_', how would you respond (desu)?"

Akutsu abruptly choked on his next inhale of smoke.

"Are you okay (desu)?" Dan cried, alarmed as the older boy seemed to be trying to cough up what was left of his lungs unharmed by cigarette tar.

"Wh-Who the fuck said that to you?" Akutsu demanded, rounding on the smaller boy.

Dan blinked wide eyes at him. "Wh-Why? Is something wrong?"

"You- Do you even know what that _means_?" Akutsu growled.

Dan pouted. "Of course I do! He said it in a manner that wasn't hard to understand (desu)!"

"_He_? Who the hell would say that to _you_, you moron?" Akutsu couldn't believe this; who would dare to flirt with this naive little idiot who had no self-preservation instinct! Akutsu would find the bastard and kill him!

Dan crossed his arms over his chest, clearly starting to sulk. "Akutsu-senpai! Are you trying to say I'm not cute enough to be hit on?"

Akutsu couldn't understand why the conversation had derailed. Moreso, he didn't know how to reply to that - this was one topic of many that he did not wish to breach with the 12-year-old. There was just something wildly inappropriate about talking about coercion with a freshman; Akutsu was not prepared to deal with this. He wasn't sure he'd ever be.

"And just so you know, he was a cute Regular from Saint Rudolph!" Dan stated defensively.

Oh dear god, the brat was seducing people from _rival teams_?

"Which one?" Akutsu asked gruffly, needing to know who would he would be smearing across the pavement.

* * *

Mizuki and Yuuta had scraped by with a 7-5 win, thanks mostly to the unveiling of Yuuta's new move. Nitobe and Kita had never looked happier to escape the court, and after their cordial handshake, Kita had been quick to run to the bathroom to wash the Mizuki germs off.

When the match between the Jimmies and the Yanagisawa-Atsushi pair came up, Ryoma didn't know what was more annoying; Yanagisawa's jibes or the Jimmies' screaming protests about being bland. The freshman actually felt sorry for Atsushi, although the headband-wearing youth seemed to be tuning out the entire exchange between his partner and their opponents.

Deciding that was all he could take in terms of annoying banter, Ryoma wandered away to get some much-needed respite. After telling his fellow freshman club member Sawa to get him once his turn came up - assuming it did come up, as long as the Saint Rudolph pair won the match - Ryoma headed in the direction of the vending machines. Maybe while Mizuki was busy watching the match, Ryoma could get away with downing a second can of fruit soda.

"I had no idea tennis matches were so interesting!" Yosuke cheered, coming up to Ryoma's side and throwing a friendly arm around the other boy's shoulders. Ryoma irritably shook the appendage off, snorting as the other freshman only grinned at him cheekily in response.

"Are mind games always so heavily featured in these matches?" the boy asked.

Ryoma shrugged, "I guess. Mizuki-senpai and Yanagisawa-senpai are the only ones who really focus on them, though."

"And what, you're too good to play mind games?" Yosuke teased. "Or is getting their ass handed to them by a freshman all they need?"

Ryoma gave him a level look, "Shouldn't you be recording or something?"

"What do you think I brought Souji for, his dashing good looks?"

Ryoma would have made a snide remark about Yosuke pushing his responsibilities on to others, but was interrupted by a cheerful "_Echizen-kuuuun_!"

The pair of freshmen turned to look behind them, where Dan Taichi was running to catch up. Shadowing the boy's footsteps was the tall, lanky form of a furious-looking Akutsu Jin; Yosuke audibly gulped, moving closer to Ryoma's side as the two Yamabuki club members drew to a stop before them.

"You're Echizen Ryoma, right?" Dan asked excitedly, pencil writing something on the clipboard he held. "I knew you were a freshman - but I had no idea you'd be as small as me!"

"I'm not that small," Ryoma interjected sulkily.

Akutsu was looking down on him with a sneer. "This is the brat that..."

"Yeah!" Dan said brightly. "I told you a cute guy hit on me! And you thought I was ugly, Akutsu-senpai!"

Akutsu glared down at his schoolmate. "I didn't say anything like that, you idiot!"

Yosuke was openly gaping at Ryoma. "You hit on him?"

Ryoma looked away, tugging the brim of his hat down and cheeks flushing. "When Mizuki-senpai does it, they usually don't come back for more..." he complained.

Yosuke didn't appear to have heard. "You hit on him...you, _Echizen Ryoma_, hit on _him_..." A chesire-like grin was beginning to spread across his face, much to Ryoma's apprehension.

Akutsu seemed to have remembered why he wanted to see him - but he really had no idea what to do now. Normally, if they had ordered him to do something, he'd beat them down; he only wanted to see what kind of sick pervert would try to hit on a 12-year-old boy and teach them lesson. Finding the culprit to be another 12-year-old boy made him rethink his initial plan. Not that Akutsu had any qualms about beating up anyone younger than him - as long as they were infuriating enough and big enough to take a beat-down - but he couldn't really beat up the Saint Rudolph kid for flirting with someone his age.

"And you," Yosuke started, looking straight at Akutsu with that damning grin and knowing gleam in his eyes. "You came to claim this guy as your own?"

Akutsu blinked, taken aback. "Wha-"

"You did?" Dan squeaked, blushing a vibrant red.

"I didn't!" Akutsu countered immediately.

Yosuke was in his element now, though, and thus disregarded everything said to the contrary of his budding scheme. "Then this can be settled through a tennis match! Ryoma-kun, he's your opponent today, right? That's perfect then!"

"Perfect for what?" Dan asked, curious. (Ryoma had remained silent, not wanting to egg Yosuke on and having not counted on Dan for foiling his plan.)

"For the duel over _your heart_!" Yosuke announced dramatically.

"_Are you an idiot_?" Akutsu and Ryoma hissed together.

It was too late, however; Dan was now intrigued by this development for 'his heart'. (It didn't seem to occur to him that he was being 'fought over' by two boys.) Yosuke - _damn him again _- was smirking in satisfaction at the groundwork he'd laid and was muttering under his breath, "My club project is going to be awesome!"

Ryoma really regretted heading off for that soda now.

* * *

They'd returned just in time to watch the final game between Sengoku and Kaneda; the latter losing at a terrible rate. The boy was just no match for Sengoku Kiyosumi's skill, let alone his luck. The score was currently at 5-2, and no one looked too surprised.

Yuuta glanced back as they approached, turning fully at the sour look on Ryoma's face. "What's wrong? Did something happen?" he asked, concern coloring his voice.

Yosuke chortled good-naturedly, "Just making Ryoma-kun more friends! He sure gets popular quick!"

"I hate you so much right now," Ryoma growled to the other boy.

Yosuke waved him off, swaggering back over to Souji who was still recording Kaneda's match. Taking a seat between Yuuta and Mizuki - noticeably closer to Yuuta, to Mizuki's obvious amusement - Ryoma turned his attention back to the match just as Sengoku won his service game. "Has Ichirou-senpai made any progress?"

"Ichirou-kun is getting better," Mizuki answered. "But Sengoku is still out of his league."

"Six games to two, Yamabuki's Sengoku is the winner!" the referee called out.

There was a spatter of cheers from Yamabuki's side, although Mira - and the other freshmen - were yelling out consolations to a downtrodden Kaneda. "Your turn is up, Ryoma-kun," Yuuta said.

Akutsu Jin stepped on to the court. "Get out here, brat - I'm going to trash you!"

Ryoma snorted disdainfully, entering the court after brutally ignoring his teammate's cries to be careful.

Yosuke, now stationed by the video camera, pumped a fist into the air. "Alright, it's time! _The Duel for Dan Taichi's Heart!_"

The Regulars of both teams froze, staring at the two in the court, utterly gobsmacked. Dan blushed as he was immediately surrounded by the Saint Rudolph freshmen, lead by a babbling Mira.

"_It's not like that!_" Akutsu and Ryoma shouted.

* * *

Akutsu Jin was a _monster_.

Even though the first game started favorable for Ryoma, the freshman's ace serve was easily returned by his opponent. Akutsu was strong and quick, unlike anyone else he's faced before; his lurching height should have detracted but instead only gave him better reach. He was flexible so that no matter what hit Ryoma made, no matter how fast and quick, it was always returned. Even worse, the older boy had this infuriating smirk on his features that made Ryoma's blood boil.

"One game to love! Switch courts!"

Ryoma, scowl on his features, strode to the other side of the court. He didn't acknowledge the dozen or so hands of his teammates as they all offered him a water bottle or towel, trying the strings of his racket as he turned his attention back to the monster across the net.

Was this what his mother meant by finding strong opponents? This kind of person? There was no question about it; Akutsu was gifted. 'Once every ten years' kind of talent, he'd heard; Akutsu was hardly holding back, too. He was aggressive to a point where he lacked defensive shots - not that Akutsu saw any need for them. He seemed perfectly capable of unstoppably attacking his opponent.

His eyes were positively burning. The hand holding the racket was held tight at times, as if Akutsu were forcibly restraining himself from some primal urge - to leap over the net and dismember Ryoma? To throw the racket straight into the younger boys' face? There was just something about Akutsu that Ryoma had never seen in anyone else.

Ah, that's right - violence. Akutsu Jin was violence personified.

There wasn't hate; Akutsu didn't know Ryoma well enough for that. There's wasn't something smug about his moves - an arrogance, yes, but that's just something those with a high-level of skill seemed to carry around - nor was there any outright malice. Contemptuous, maybe, but that wasn't for Ryoma; that was for the game they were playing. Akutsu did not like tennis-?

_You don't have to like tennis to play it, _Ryoma mused.

That's right - tennis wasn't fun. This match wasn't fun at all, nor were any of the previous ones. Ryoma couldn't really recall the last time he had enjoyed a match. It didn't matter if the opponent had been strong or weak, quick or slow, arrogant or demure; Ryoma had crushed them, one after the other, and the only thing he felt after the match was disappointment at the sight of _her _unimpressed face.

_Still not good enough_, she would repeat over and over again, like a mantra. No matter how much older his opponent had been, or how much stronger, or how much more experienced - Ryoma would still never measure up, in her eyes.

_You're still not good enough - get back up, Ryoma, goddamnit - you still have lots more to work on - _

"Mada mada dane," Ryoma repeated hollowly.

* * *

Across the court, Akutsu's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What the hell did you say, you little brat?"

The referee looked ready to admonish Akutsu's manners, but was interrupted as Ryoma made the return and the ball shot to Akutsu's side, spinning in one spot before launching towards Akutsu's face and barely missing the giant of a teen. Akutsu hadn't moved one centimeter, but he spared a moment as the referee called out Ryoma's point to glare at the unaffected youth across the court.

Akutsu couldn't read the boy. It was the first thing he had noticed once the match had started; his opponent had absolutely nothing to give away. The kid moved quickly - able to keep up with the shots that should have been out of his reach - and he easily kept pace with any change in the ball's return.

But Akutsu _couldn't fucking read him._

Opponents, no matter what the sport, leant something personal to the style they chose to incorporate. Whether it be in judou, or karate, or tennis - there was something about the individual that Akutsu could see, analyze, and overpower. It might be the way their eyes looked as he took them on, the way they twitched in a barely-controlled reflex to one move or another, what they said or what they didn't respond to - a thousand little cues Akutsu could read and use to his advantage.

Echizen was giving nothing away. His eyes were hollow, as if he were fading in and out of the match. There was something about his shots that was difrent than others Akutsu had opposed. The hits - while powerful, while fast, while _brilliant_ - felt inherently wrong somehow. Akutsu couldn't place how or why, but then again, he didn't really care to.

What really distracted Akutsu, if he were to be honest with himself, was how Echizen looked absolutely agonized while he played.

It wasn't obvious - Akutsu would have missed it, really, if he hadn't been trying to smash a ball into the little smartass's face. It was in the blandness of the boy's expression, the way his eyes occasionally narrowed in something resembling annoyance, the way the golden irises flared as if every return he made disgusted him.

Before, Akutsu would have laughed at the idea of anyone playing something they so obviously hated.

Now, standing across the court from a child who was doing just that, Akutsu couldn't decide if he was annoyed by the entire situation, or if he should pity the younger boy for it.

Akutsu has never been very good at sympathy.

* * *

Ryoma would have been amazed at his opponent's reflexes and speed, if he hadn't been so busy being distracted by the haunting of his mother's expectations. As it was, he couldn't even appreciate the sheer amount of talent Akutsu had - he was too busy trying to crush the older boy for any of that.

_It doesn't matter, as long as I win, _Ryoma thought, striking back another one of Akutsu's return. The damn teen had managed to hit back another Twist Serve - which served to annoy Ryoma further. _She'll only see the scores - that's all she'll care about._

Ryoma's eyes narrowed, golden irises alight._ I just need to __**win**__!_

Akutsu wasn't quick enough to dodge; the ball speared him right in the forehead, knocking the monster of a teen back to land with a resounding thud, sprawled across the court. Ryoma remained still, golden eyes shaded from view by the bill of his hat, but from Akutsu's fallen position, the eyes were clearly visible. They glowed with defiance and - Akutsu finally noticed - complete and utter hatred.

"_Drive A,_" Ryoma called aloud.

* * *

**A/N**: Akutsu is special enough that his match gets split into two chapters. _Huzzah_!

_Be kind a **drop a review**, please~!_


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